THE  -  LITTLE 
COLONEL'S  •  HERO 


ANNIE  FELLOWS 
dOHNSTON 


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,J 


THE   LITTLE   COLONEL    AND    HER    HERO 


THE    LITTLE     COLONEL'S 

(Trade  Mark) 

HERO 

BY 

ANNIE     FELLOWS    JOHNSTON 

AUTHOR  OF 

"  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL,"  "  TWO  LITTLE  KNIGHTS 

OF  KENTUCKY,"  "  BIG  BROTHER,"  "  ASA 

HOLMES,"  "  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S 

HOUSE  PARTY,"  "THE  LITTLE 

COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS,"  ETC. 


ALBION    FELLOWS    BACON 


Illustrates  tig 
ETHELDRED    B.    BARRY 


BOSTON 
L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  tgoa 
By  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(.INCORPORATED) 
All  rights  reserved 


Published  October,  1902 


Seventh  Impression,  March,  1907 


Colonial  tfrfss 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 
Boston.  Mass..  U.  S.  A. 


PS 


TO 

ALL  THE  FRIENDS  OF  THE  "LITTLE  COLONEL" 

TO   WHOSE  LETTERS 

THE  AUTHOR  COULD   NOT   REPLY, 

THIS  BOOK   IS  OFFERED   IN   ANSWER  TO 

THEIR   MANY  QUESTIONS 


577419 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PACES 

I.  HER  TWELFTH  BIRTHDAY       .        .        .        .11 

II.  THE  WONDER -BALL  BEGINS  TO  UNWIND     .      25 

III.  LLOYD  MEETS  HERO 41 

IV.  HERO'S  STORY 55 

V.  THE  RED  CROSS  OF  GENEVA  ....      67 

VI.  THE  WONDER -BALL'S  BEST  GIFT  ...      79 

VII.    IN  TOURS 102 

VIII.  WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA    .        .        .        .121 

IX.  AT  THE  GATE  OF  THE  GIANT  SCISSORS         .    136 

X.    ON  THE  WING 147 

XI.    HOMEWARD  BOUND 161 

XII.     HOME  AGAIN 179 

XIII.  "THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  PRINCESS  WINSOME"    197 

XIV.  IN  CAMP 234 

XV.    THE  SENTRY'S  MISTAKE 249 

XVI.  "TAPS"     .                                                          .    262 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


PACK 

THE  LITTLE  COLONEL  AND  HER  HERO  .  Frontispiece 
"  CLOSING  THE  BOOK  LLOYD  LAY  BACK  AMONG  THE 

CUSHIONS" 18 

"  SOON     SHE     BEGAN     WALKING     UP    AND     DOWN     THE 

DECK" 27 

"ALL  THE  GUESTS  IN  THE  INN  GATHERED  AROUND 

THE  DOOR  TO  SEE  HIM  START"  ....  91 
"  HE  KNELT  BEFORE  THE  KEYHOLE  AND  SENT  A 

STREAM  OF  WATER  SQUIRTING  THROUGH  IT"  .  IIO 
«  BETTY  SLOWLY  FOLLOWED  HER  GODMOTHER  UP 

THE  WIDE  STAIRS" 187 

"  '  SPIN,  WHEEL,  REEL  OUT  THY  GOLDEN  THREAD  '  "  .  230 
"THE  CLEAR  CALL  .  .  .  RANG  OUT  INTO  THE  DARK 

WOODS 243 


THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 


CHAPTER  L 

HER  TWELFTH   BIRTHDAY 

"On,  Tarbaby!  Everybody  has  forgotten  that  it  is 
my  birthday !  Even  Papa  Jack  has  gone  off  to  town 
without  saying  a  word  about  it,  and  he  nevah  old 
such  a  thing  befo'  in  aD  his  fife!" 

As  she  spoke,  the  Little  Colonel  pot  her  arm 
around  her  pony's  neck,  and  for  a  moment  her  fab- 
little  head  was  pressed  disconsolately  against  its  vel- 
vety black  mane. 

«It  isn't  the  presents  I  care  about,"  she  whis- 
pered, choking  back  a  heart-broken  sob;  "but  oh, 
Tarbaby,  ifs  the  bein'  forgotten!  Of  co'se  mothah 
couldn't  be  npnrted  to  remembah,  she's  been  so  flL 
But  I  think  giandfathah  might,  or  Mom  Beck,  or 
somebody.  If  there'd  only  been  one  single 
when  I  came  down-stairs  this  mawnin'  to  say  'I 


12        THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

you  many  happy  returns,  Lloyd,  deah,'  I  wouldn't 
feel  so  bad.  But  there  wasn't,  and  I  nevah  felt  so 
misah'ble  and  lonesome  and  left  out  since  I  was 
bawn." 

Tarbaby  had  no  words  with  which  to  comfort  his 
little  mistress,  but  he  seemed  to  understand  that  she 
was  in  trouble,  and  rubbed  his  nose  lovingly  against 
her  shoulder.  The  mute  caress  comforted  her  as 
much  as  words  could  have  done,  and  presently  she 
climbed  into  the  saddle  and  started  slowly  down  the 
avenue  to  the  gate. 

It  was  a  warm  May  morning,  sweet  with  the 
fragance  of  the  locusts,  for  the  great  trees  arching 
above  her  were  all  abloom,  and  the  ground  beneath 
was  snowy  with  the  wind-blown  petals.  Under  the 
long  white  arch  she  rode,  with  the  fallen  blossoms 
white  at  her  feet.  The  pewees  called  from  the 
cedars  and  the  fat  red-breasted  robins  ran  across 
the  lawn  just  as  they  had  done  the  spring  before, 
when  it  was  her  eleventh  birthday,  and  she  had 
ridden  along  that  same  way  singing,  the  happiest 
hearted  child  in  the  Valley.  But  she  was  not  sing- 
ing to-day.  Another  sob  came  up  in  her  throat  as 
she  thought  of  the  difference. 

"  Now  I'm  a  whole  yeah  oldah,"  she  sighed.  "  Oh, 
deah !  I  don't  want  to  grow  up,  one  bit,  and  I'll  be 


HER    TWELFTH  BIRTHDAY  13 

suah  'nuff  old  on  my  next  birthday,  for  I'll  be  in  my 
teens  then.  I  wondah  how  that  will  feel.  This  last 
yeah  was  such  a  lovely  one,  for  it  brought  the  house 
pahty  and  so  many  holidays.  But  this  yeah  has 
begun  all  wrong.  I  can't  help  feelin'  that  it's  goin' 
to  bring  me  lots  of  trouble." 

Half-way  down  the  avenue  she  thought  she  heard 
some  one  calling  her,  and  stopped  to  look  back.  But 
no  one  was  in  sight.  The  shutters  were  closed  in 
her  mother's  room. 

"  Last  yeah  she  stood  at  the  window  and  waved  to 
me  when  I  rode  away,"  sighed  the  child,  her  eyes 
filling  with  tears  again.  "  Now  she's  so  white  and 
ill  it  makes  me  cry  to  look  at  her.  Maybe  that  is 
the  trouble  this  yeah  is  goin'  to  bring  me.  Betty's 
mothah  died,  and  Eugenia's,  and  maybe  "  —  but  the 
thought  was  too  dreadful  to  put  into  words,  and  she 
stopped  abruptly. 

"  Mom  Beck  was  right,"  she  whispered  with  a  nod 
of  her  head.  "  She  said  that  sad  thoughts  are  like 
crows.  They  come  in  flocks.  I  wish  I  could  stop 
thinkin'  about  such  mou'nful  things." 

A  train  passed  as  she  cantered  through  the  gate 
and  started  down  the  road  beside  the  railroad  track. 
She  drew  rein  to  watch  it  thunder  by.  Some  child 
at  the  window  pointed  a  finger  at  her,  and  then  two 


14  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

smiling  little  faces  were  pressed  against  the  pane  for 
anleager  glimpse.  It  was  the  prettiest  wayside  picture 
the  passengers  had  seen  in  all  that  morning's  travel 
—  the  Little  Colonel  on  her  pony,  with  the  spray  of 
locust  bloom  in  the  cockade  of  the  Napoleon  cap  she 
wore,  and  a  plume  of  the  same  graceful  blossoms 
nodding  jauntily  over  each  of  Tarbaby's  black  ears. 

As  the  admiring  faces  whirled  past  her,  Lloyd 
drew  a  long  breath  of  relief.  "  I'm  glad  that  I  don't 
have  to  do  my  riding  in  a  smoky  old  car  this  May 
mawnin',"  she  thought.  "  It  is  wicked  for  me  to  be 
so  unhappy  when  I  have  Tarbaby  and  all  the  othah 
things  that  mothah  and  Papa  Jack  have  given  me. 
I  know  perfectly  well  that  they  love  me  just  the 
same  even  if  they  have  forgotten  my  birthday,  and 
I  won't  let  such  old  black  crow  thoughts  flock  down 
on  me.  I'll  ride  fast  and  get  away  from  them." 

That  was  harder  to  do  than  she  had  imagined,  for 
as  she  passed  Judge  Moore's  place  the  deserted 
house  added  to  her  feeling  of  loneliness.  Andy,  the 
old  gardener,  was  cutting  the  grass  on  the  front 
lawn.  She  called  to  him. 

"When  is  the  family  coming  out  from  town, 
Andy?" 

"Not  this  summer,  Miss  Lloyd,"  he  answered. 
"It'll  be  the  first  summer  in  twenty  years  that  the 


HER    TWELFTH  BIRTHDAY  15 

Judge  has  missed.  He  has  taken  a  cottage  at  the 
seaside,  and  they're  all  going  there.  The  house  will 
stay  closed,  just  as  you  see  it  now,  I  reckon,  for 
another  year." 

"  At  the  seashore !  "  she  echoed.  "  Not  coming 
out ! "  She  almost  gasped,  the  news  was  so  unex- 
pected. Here  was  another  disappointment,  and  a 
very  sore  one.  Every  summer,  as  far  back  as  she 
could  remember,  Rob  Moore  had  been  her  favourite 
playfellow.  Now  there  would  be  no  more  mad  Tarn 
O'Shanter  races,  with  Rob  clattering  along  beside 
her  on  his  big  iron-gray  horse.  No  more  good  times 
with  the  best  and  j oiliest  of  little  neighbours.  A 
summer  without  Rob's  cheery  whistle  and  good- 
natured  laugh  would  seem  as  empty  and  queer  as 
the  woods  without  the  bird  voices,  or  the  meadows 
without  the  whirr  of  humming  things.  She  rode 
slowly  on. 

There  was  no  letter  for  her  when  she  stopped  at 
the  post-office  to  inquire  for  the  mail.  The  girls 
on  whom  she  called  afterward  were  not  at  home,  so 
she  rode  aimlessly  around  the  Valley  until  nearly 
lunch-time,  wishing  for  once  that  it  were  a  school- 
day.  It  was  the  longest  Saturday  morning  she  had 
ever  known.  She  could  not  practise  her  music 
lesson  for  fear  of  making  her  mother's  headache 


1 6  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

worse.  She  could  not  go  near  the  kitchen,  where 
she  might  have  found  entertainment,  for  Aunt  Cindy 
was  in  one  of  her  black  tempers,  and  scolded  shrilly 
as  she  moved  around  among  her  shining  tins. 

There  was  no  one  to  show  her  how  to  begin  her 
new  piece  of  embroidery  ;  Papa  Jack  had  forgotten  to 
bring  out  the  magazines  she  wanted  to  see ;  Walker 
had  failed  to  roll  the  tennis-court  and  put  up  the  net, 
so  she  could  not  even  practise  serving  the  balls  by 
herself. 

When  lunch-time  came,  it  was  so  lonely  eating 
by  herself  in  the  big  dining-room,  that  she  hurried 
through  the  meal  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  tiptoed 
up  the  stairs  to  the  door  of  her  mother's  room.  Mom 
Beck  raised  her  finger  with  a  warning  "  Sh ! "  and 
seeing  that  her  mother  was  still  asleep,  Lloyd  stole 
away  to  her  own  room,  her  own  pretty  pink  and 
white  nest,  and  curled  herself  up  among  the  cushions 
in  a  big  easy  chair  by  the  window. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  her  memory  that  her 
mother  had  been  ill.  For  more  than  a  week  she  had 
not  been  able  to  leave  her  room,  and  the  lonely  child, 
accustomed  to  being  with  her  constantly,  crept 
around  the  house  like  a  little  stray  kitten.  The 
place  scarcely  seemed  like  home,  and  the  days  were 
endless.  Some  unusual  feeling  of  sensitiveness  had 


HER   TWELFTH  BIRTHDAY  I? 

kept  her  from  reminding  the  family  of  her  birthday. 
Other  years  she  had  openly  counted  the  days,  for 
weeks  beforehand,  and  announced  the  gifts  that  she 
would  be  most  pleased  to  receive. 

Here  by  the  window  the  dismal  crow  thoughts 
began^flocking  down  to  her  again,  and  to  drive  them 
away  she  picked  up  a  book  from  the  table  and  began 
to  read.  It  was  a  green  and  gold  volume  of  short 
stories,  one  that  she  had  read  many  times  before,  but 
she  never  grew  tired  of  them. 

The  one  she  liked  best  was  "  Marguerite's  Wonder- 
ball,"  and  she  turned  to  that  first,  because  it  was  the 
story  of  a  happy  birthday.  Marguerite  was  a  little 
German  girl,  learning  to  knit,  and  to  help  her  in  her 
task  her  family  wound  for  her  a  mammoth  ball  of 
yarn,  as  full  of  surprise  packages  as  a  plum  cake 
is  of  plums.  Day  by  day,  as  her  patient  knitting 
unwound  the  yarn,  some  gift  dropped  out  into  her 
lap.  They  were  simple  things,  nearly  all  of  them. 
A  knife,  a  ribbon,  a  thimble,  a  pencil,  and  here  and 
there  a  bonbon,  but  they  were  magnified  by  the 
charm  of  the  surprise,  and  they  turned  the  tedious 
task  into  a  pleasant  pastime.  Not  until  her  birthday 
was  the  knitting  finished,  and  as  she  took  the  last 
stitches  a  little  velvet-covered  jewel-box  fell  out.  In 
the  jewel-box  was  a  string  of  pearls  that  had  belonged 


1 8       THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

to  Marguerite's  great-great-grandmother.  It  was  a 
precious  family  heirloom,  and  although  Marguerite 
could  not  wear  the  necklace  until  she  was  old  enough 
to  go  to  her  first  great  court  ball,  it  made  her  very- 
proud  and  happy  to  think  that,  of  all  the  grandchil- 
dren in  the  family,  she  had  been  chosen  as  the  one  to 
wear  her  great-great-grandmother's  name  that  means 
pearl,  and  had  inherited  on  that  account  the  beautiful 
Von  Behren  necklace. 

When  the  knitting  was  done  there  was  a  charming 
birthday  feast  in  her  honour.  They  crowned  her 
with  flowers,  and  every  one,  even  the  dignified  old 
grandfather,  did  her  bidding  until  nightfall,  because 
it  was  her  day,  and  she  was  its  queen. 

Closing  the  book  Lloyd  lay  back  among  the  cuslv 
ions,  smiling  for  the  twentieth  time  over  Marguerite's 
happiness,  and  planning  the  beautiful  wonder-ball  she 
herself  would  like  to  have,  if  wonder-balls  were  to  be  had 
for  the  wishing.  It  should  be  as  big  as  a  cart-wheel, 
and  the  first  gift  to  be  unwound  should  be  a  tiny  ring 
set  with  an  emerald,  because  that  is  the  lucky  stone 
for  people  born  in  May.  She  already  owned  so  many 
books,  and  trinkets,  that  she  hardly  knew  what  else 
to  wish  for  unless  it  might  be  a  coral  fan  chain  and 
a  mother-of-pearl  manicure  set.  But  deep  down  in 
the  heart  of  the  ball  she  would  like  to  find  a  wishing- 


"  CLOSING    THE    BOOK    LLOYD    LAY    BACK    AMONG   THE 
CUSHIONS  " 


HER    TWELFTH  BIRTHDAY  19 

nut,  that  would  grant  her  wishes  like  an  Aladdin's 
lamp  whenever  it  was  rubbed. 

She  must  have  fallen  asleep  in  the  midst  of  her 
day-dreaming,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that  it  was  only  a 
minute  after  she  closed  her  book,  that  she  heard  the 
half -past  five  o'clock  train  whistling  at  the  station, 
and  while  she  was  still  rubbing  her  eyes  she  saw  her 
father  coming  up  the  avenue. 

All  day  she  had  had  a  lingering  hope  that  he 
might  bring  her  something  when  he  came  out  from 
the  city.  "  If  it's  nothing  but  a  bag  of  peanuts,"  she 
thought,  "  it  will  be  better  than  having  a  birthday  go 
by  without  anything,  'specially  when  all  the  othahs 
have  been  neahly  as  nice  as  Christmas." 

She  peeped  out  between  the  curtains,  scanning  him 
eagerly  as  he  came  toward  the  house,  but  there  was 
no  package  in  either  hand,  and  no  suggestive  parcel 
bulged  from  any  of  his  pockets. 

"  I'll  not  be  a  baby,"  Lloyd  whispered  to  herself, 
winking  her  eyelids  rapidly  to  clear  away  a  sort  of 
mist  that  seemed  to  blur  the  landscape.  "I'm  too 
old  to  care  so  much." 

Still,  it  was  such  a  disappointment,  added  to  all 
the  others  that  the  day  had  brought,  that  she  buried 
her  face  in  the  cushions  and  cried  softly.  She  could 
hear  her  father's  voice  in  the  next  room,  presently. 


2O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

It  seemed  quite  loud  and  cheerful ;  more  cheerful 
than  it  had  sounded  since  her  mother's  dreadful  neu- 
ralgic headaches  had  begun.  A  few  minutes  later 
she  heard  her  mother  laugh.  It  was  such  a  welcome 
sound,  that  she  hastily  dried  her  eyes  and  started  to 
run  in  to  see  what  had  caused  it,  but  she  paused  as 
she  passed  the  mirror.  Her  eyes  were  so  red  that 
she  knew  she  would  be  questioned,  and  she  concluded 
it  would  be  better  to  wait  until  she  was  dressed  for 
dinner. 

So  she  sat  looking  out  of  the  window  till  the  big 
hall  clock  struck  six,  and  then  hastily  bathing  her 
eyes,  she  slipped  into  a  fresh  white  dress,  and  looking 
carefully  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  concluded  that  she 
had  waited  long  enough.  To  her  surprise,  she  found 
her  mother  sitting  up  in  a  big  Morris  chair  by  the 
window.  Maybe  it  was  the  pink  silk  kimono  she  wore 
that  brought  a  faint  tinge  of  colour  to  her  cheeks,  but 
whatever  it  was,  she  looked  well  and  natural  again, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  six  long  days  the  neuralgic 
headache  was  all  gone,  and  the  lines  of  suffering  were 
smoothed  out  of  her  face. 

The  wide  glass  doors  opening  on  to  the  balcony 
were  standing  open,  and  through  the  vines  stole  the 
golden  sunset  light,  the  chirping  of  robins,  the  smell 
of  new-mown  grass,  and  the  heavy  sweetness  of  the 


HER    TWELFTH  BIRTHDAY  21 

locust  blooms.  Lloyd  rubbed  her  eyes,  thinking  she 
surely  must  be  dreaming.  There  on  the  vine-covered 
balcony  stood  a  table  all  set  as  if  for  a  "  pink  party." 
There  were  flowers  and  bonbons  in  the  silver  dishes, 
and  in  the  centre  Mom  Beck  was  proudly  placing  a 
mammoth  birthday  cake,  wreathed  in  pink  icing 
roses,  and  crowned  with  twelve  pink  candles  ready 
for  the  lighting. 

" Oh,  mothah  !  "  she  cried.     "I  —  I  thought  —  " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  something  in 
her  surprised  tone,  the  sudden  flushing  of  her  face, 
and  the  traces  of  tears  still  in  her  eyes,  told  what 
she  meant. 

"  You  thought  mother  had  forgotten,"  whispered 
Mrs.  Sherman,  tenderly,  as  Lloyd  hid  her  face  on 
her  shoulder. 

"  No,  not  for  one  minute,  dear.  But  the  pain  was 
so  bad  this  morning,  when  you  came  to  my  room, 
that  I  couldn't  talk.  Then  you  were  out  riding  so 
long  this  morning,  and  when  I  wakened  after  lunch 
and  sent  Mom  Beck  to  find  you,  she  said  you  were 
asleep  in  your  room.  Papa  Jack  and  I  have  been 
planning  a  great  surprise  for  you,  and  he  did  not 
want  to  mention  it  until  all  the  arrangements  were 
completed.  That  is  why  there  was  no  birthday  sur- 
prise for  you  at  breakfast.  But  you'll  soon  be  a 


22  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

very  happy  little  girl,  for  this  surprise  is  something 
you  have  been  wanting  for  more  than  a  year." 

How  suddenly  the  whole  world  had  changed  for 
the  Little  Colonel !  The  sunshine  had  never  seemed 
so  golden,  the  locust  blooms  so  deliciously  sweet. 
Her  birthday  had  not  been  forgotten,  after  all.  Mrs. 
Sherman's  chair  was  wheeled  to  the  table  on  the 
balcony,  and  Lloyd  took  her  seat  with  sparkling  eyes. 
She  wondered  what  the  surprise  could  be,  and  felt 
sure  that  Papa  Jack  would  not  tell  her  until  the  cake 
was  cut,  and  the  last  birthday  wish  made  with  the 
blowing  of  the  birthday  candles. 

He  had  intended  to  save  his  news  to  serve  with 
the  dessert,  but  when  he  questioned  Lloyd  as  to  how 
she  had  spent  the  day,  and  laughed  at  her  for  read- 
ing the  old  tale  of  Marguerite's  wonder-ball  so  many 
times,  his  secret  escaped  him  before  he  knew  it. 
Turning  to  Mrs.  Sherman  he  said,  "By  the  way, 
Elizabeth,  our  birthday  gift  for  Lloyd  might  be 
called  a  sort  of  wonder-ball."  Then  he  looked  at  his 
little  daughter  with  a  teasing  smile,  as  he  continued, 
"  I  wonder  if  you  can  guess  my  riddle.  At  first 
your  wonder-ball  will  unroll  a  day  and  night  on  the 
cars,  then  a  drive  through  a  park  where  you  rode  in 
a  baby-carriage  once  upon  a  time,  but  through  which 
you  shall  go  in  an  automobile  this  time,  if  you  wish. 


HER    TWELFTH  BIRTHDAY  23 

There'll  be  some  shopping,  maybe,  and  after  that 
flags  flying,  and  bands  playing,  and  crowds  of  people 
waving  good-bye." 

He  had  intended  to  stop  there,  but  the  wondering 
expression  on  her  face  carried  him  on  further.  "I 
can't  undertake  to  say  how  much  your  wonder-ball 
can  hold,  but  somewhere  near  the  centre  of  it  will  be 
a  meeting  with  Betty  and  Eugenia,  and  perhaps  a 
glimpse  of  the  Gate  of  the  Giant  Scissors  that  you 
are  always  talking  about." 

As  Lloyd  listened  a  look  of  utter  astonishment 
crept  over  her  face.  Then  she  suddenly  sprang 
from  her  chair,  and  running  to  her  father  put  a  hand 
on  each  shoulder.  "Papa  Jack,"  she  cried,  breath- 
lessly, "  look  me  straight  in  the  eyes !  Are  you  in 
earnest  ?  You  don't  mean  that  we  are  going  abroad, 
do  you?  It  couldnt  be  anything  so  lovely  as  that, 
could  it  ? " 

For  answer  he  drew  an  envelope  from  his  pocket 
and  shook  it  before  her  eyes.  "Look  for  yourself," 
he  said.  "This  is  to  show  that  we  are  listed  for 
passage  on  a  steamer  going  to  Antwerp  the  first  of 
June.  You  may  begin  to  pack  your  trunk  next 
week,  if  you  wish." 

It  was  impossible  for  Lloyd  to  eat  any  more  after 
that.  She  was  too  excited  and  happy,  and  there 


24  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

were  countless  questions  she  wanted  to  ask.  "  It's 
bettah  than  a  hundred  house  pahties,"  she  exclaimed, 
as  she  blew  out  the  last  birthday  candle.  "  It's  the 
loveliest  wondah-ball  that  evah  was,  and  I'm  suah 
that  nobody  in  all  Kentucky  is  as  happy  as  I  am 
now." 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  WONDER -BALL  BEGINS  TO  UNWIND 

LLOYD'S  wonder-ball  began  to  unroll  the  morning 
that  her  father  took  her  to  town  to  choose  her  own 
steamer  trunk,  and  some  of  the  things  that  were  to 
go  in  it.  She  packed  and  unpacked  it  many  times 
in  the  two  weeks  that  followed,  although  she  knew 
that  Mom  Beck  would  do  the  final  packing,  and 
probably  take  out  half  the  things  which  she  insisted 
upon  crowding  into  it. 

Every  morning  it  was  a  fresh  delight  to  waken 
and  find  it  standing  by  her  dressing-table,  reminding 
her  of  the  journey  they  would  soon  begin  together, 
and,  when  the  journey  was  actually  begun,  she 
settled  back  in  her  seat  with  a  happy  sigh. 

"  Now,  I'll  commence  to  count  my  packages  as 
they  fall  out,"  she  said.  "  I  think  I  ought  to  count 
what  I  see  from  the  car  windows  as  one,  for  I  enjoy 
looking  out  at  the  different  places  we  pass  moah  than 
I  evah  enjoyed  my  biggest  pictuah  books." 

"Then  count  this  number  two,"  said  her  father, 
25 


26  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

putting  a  flat,  square  parcel  in  her  lap.  Lloyd 
looked  puzzled  as  she  opened  it.  There  was  only 
a  blank  book  inside,  bound  in  Russia  leather,  with 
the  word  "  Record  "  stamped  on  it  in  gilt. 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  keep  a 
partnership  diary,"  he  said.  "We  can  take  turns 
in  writing  in  it,  and  some  day,  when  you  are  grown, 
and  your  mother  and  I  are  old  and  gray,  it  will  help 
us  to  remember  much  of  the  journey  that  otherwise 
might  pass  out  of  our  memories.  So  many  things 
happen  when  one  is  travelling,  that  they  are  apt  to 
crowd  each  other  out  of  mind  unless  a  record  is  kept 
of  them." 

"We'll  begin  as  soon  as  we  get  on  the  ship,"  said 
Lloyd.  "Mothah  shall  write  first,  then  you,  and 
then  I.  And  let's  put  photographs  in  it,  too,  as 
Mrs.  Walton  did  in  hers.  It  will  be  like  writing  a 
real  book.  Package  numbah  two  is  lovely,  Papa 
Jack." 

It  happened  that  Mr.  Sherman  was  the  only  one 
who  made  an  entry  in  the  record  for  more  than  a 
week.  Mrs.  Sherman  felt  the  motion  of  the  vessel 
too  much  to  be  able  to  do  more  than  lie  out  on  deck 
in  her  steamer-chair.  The  Little  Colonel,  while  she 
was  not  at  all  seasick,  was  afraid  to  attempt  writing 
until  she  reached  land. 


SOON    SHE    BEGAN    WALKING    UP    AND    DOWN    THE    DECK 


WONDER- BALL   BEGINS   TO    UNWIND  2 7 

"  The  table  jiggles  so !  "  she  complained,  when  she 
sat  down  at  a  desk  in  the  ship's  library.  "  I'm  afraid 
that  I'll  spoil  the  page.  You  write  it,  Papa  Jack." 
She  put  back  the  pen,  and  stood  at  his  elbow  while 
he  wrote. 

"  Put  down  about  all  the  steamah  lettahs  that  we 
got,"  she  suggested,  "and  the  little  Japanese  stove 
Allison  Walton  sent  me  for  my  muff,  and  the  books 
Rob  sent.  Oh,  yes !  And  the  captain's  name  and 
how  long  the  ship  is,  and  how  many  tons  of  things 
to  eat  they  have  on  board.  Mom  Beck  won't  believe 
me  when  I  tell  her,  unless  I  can  show  it  to  her  in 
black  and  white." 

After  they  had  explored  the  vessel  together,  her 
father  was  ready  to  settle  down  in  his  deck-chair  in 
a  sheltered  corner,  and  read  aloud  or  sleep.  But 
the  Little  Colonel  grew  tired  of  being  wrapped  like 
a  mummy  in  her  steamer  rug.  She  did  not  care  to 
read  long  at  a  time,  and  she  grew  tired  of  looking  at 
nothing  but  water.  Soon  she  began  walking  up  and 
down  the  deck,  looking  for  something  to  entertain 
her.  In  one  place  some  little  girls  were  busy  with 
scissors  and  paint-boxes,  making  paper  dolls.  Far- 
ther along  two  boys  were  playing  checkers,  and, 
under  the  stairs,  a  group  of  children,  gathered  around 
their  governess,  were  listening  to  a  fairy  tale.  Lloyd 


28  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

longed  to  join  them,  for  she  fairly  ached  for  some 
amusement.  She  paused  an  instant,  with  her  hand 
on  the  rail,  as  she  heard  one  sentence:  "And  the 
white  prince,  clasping  the  crystal  ball,  waved  his 
plumed  cap  to  the  gnome,  and  vanished." 

Wondering  what  the  story  was  about,  Lloyd 
walked  around  to  the  other  side  of  the  deck,  only 
to  find  another  long  uninteresting  row  of  sleepy  fig- 
ures stretched  out  in  steamer-chairs,  and  half  hid- 
den in  rugs  and  cloaks.  She  turned  to  go  back,  but 
paused  as  she  caught  sight  of  a  girl,  about  her  own 
age,  standing  against  the  deck  railing,  looking  over 
into  the  sea.  She  was  not  a  pretty  girl.  Her  face 
was  too  dark  and  thin,  according  to  Lloyd's  standard 
of  beauty,  and  her  mouth  looked  as  if  it  were  used 
to  saying  disagreeable  things. 

But  Lloyd  thought  her  interesting,  and  admired 
the  scarlet  jacket  she  wore,  with  its  gilt  braid  and 
buttons,  and  the  scarlet  cap  that  made  her  long  plaits 
of  hair  look  black  as  a  crow's  wing  by  contrast.  Her 
hair  was  pretty,  and  hung  far  below  her  waist,  tied 
at  the  end  with  two  bows  of  scarlet  ribbon. 

The  girl  glanced  up  as  Lloyd  passed,  and  although 
there  was  a  cool  stare  in  her  queer  black  eyes,  Lloyd 
found  herself  greatly  interested.  She  wanted  to 
make  the  stranger's  acquaintance,  and  passed  back 


WONDER- BALL  BEGINS   TO    UNWIND  2$ 

and  forth  several  times,  to  steal  another  side  glance 
at  her.  As  she  turned  for  the  third  time  to  retrace 
her  steps,  she  was  nearly  knocked  off  her  feet  by 
two  noisy  boys,  who  bumped  against  her.  They 
were  playing  horse,  to  the  annoyance  of  all  the  pas- 
sengers on  deck,  stepping  on  people's  toes,  knocking 
over  chairs,  and  stumbling  against  the  stewards  who 
were  hurrying  along  with  their  heavy  trays  of  beef 
tea  and  lemonade. 

Lloyd  had  seen  the  boys  several  times  before. 
They  were  little  fellows  of  six  and  nine,  with  unusu- 
ally thin  legs  and  shrill  voices,  and  were  always  eating. 

Every  time  a  deck  steward  passed,  they  grabbed  a 
share  of  whatever  he  carried.  They  seemed  to  have 
discovered  some  secret  passage  to  the  ship's  supplies. 
Their  blouses  were  pouched  out  all  around  with  the 
store  of  gingersnaps,  nuts,  and  apples  which  they 
had  managed  to  stow  away  as  a  reserve  fund.  Lloyd 
had  seen  the  larger  boy  draw  out  six  bananas,  one 
after  another,  from  his  blouse,  and  then  squirm  and 
wriggle  and  almost  stand  on  his  head  to  reach  the 
seventh,  which]  had  slipped  around  to  his  back  while 
he  was  eating  the  others.  They  were  munching 
raisins  now,  as  they  ran. 

After  their  collision  with  Lloyd  they  stopped  run- 
ning, and  suddenly  began  calling,  "  Here,  Fido ! 


30  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Here,  Fido !  "  Lloyd  looked  around  eagerly,  expect- 
ing  to  see  some  pet  dog,  and  wishing  that  she  had 
one  of  the  many  pet  animals  left  behind  at  Locust, 
to  amuse  her  now.  But  no  dog  was  in  sight.  The 
girl  in  the  scarlet  jacket  turned  around  with  an 
angry  scowl. 

"  Stop  calling  me  that,  Howl  Sattawhite  ! "  she 
exclaimed,  crossly.  "  I'll  tell  mamma.  You  know 
what  she  said  she'd  do  to  you  if  you  called  me  any- 
thing but  Fidelia." 

"  And  you  know  what  she  said  she'd  do  to  you  if 
you  kept  calling  me  Howl,"  shouted  the  larger  of  the 
boys,  making  a  saucy  face  and  darting  forward  to 
give  one  of  her  long  plaits  of  hair  a  sudden  pull. 

Quick  as  a  flash,  Fidelia  turned,  and  catching  him 
by  the  wrists,  twisted  them  till  he  began  to  whimper 
with  pain,  and  tried  to  set  his  teeth  in  her  hand. 

"  You  dare  bite  me,  you  little  beast ! "  she  cried. 
"  You  just  dare,  and  I'll  tell  mamma  how  you  spit  at 
the  waiter  the  morning  we  left  the  hotel." 

Lloyd  was  scandalised.  They  were  quarrelling  like 
two  little  dogs,  seemingly  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  a  hundred  people  were  within  hearing.  As 
Fidelia  seemed  to  be  getting  the  upper  hand,  the 
little  brother  joined  in,  calling  in  a  high  piping  voice, 
"And  if  you  squeal  on  Howell,  Fidelia  Sattawhite, 


WONDER-BALL   BEGINS   TO    UNWIND  31 

I'll  tell  mamma  how  you  went  out  walking  by  your- 
self in  New  York  when  she  told  you  not  to,  and  took 
her  new  purse  and  lost  it !  So  there,  Miss  Smarty !  " 

"  Oh,  those  dreadful  American  children  !  "  said  an 
English  woman  near  Lloyd.  "  They're  all  alike.  At 
least  the  ones  who  travel.  I  have  never  seen  any 
yet  that  had  any  manners.  They  are  all  pert 
and  spoiled.  Fancy  an  English  child,  now,  making 
such  a  scene  in  public  !  " 

The  Little  Colonel  could  feel  her  face  growing 
painfully  red.  She  was  indignant  at  being  classed 
with  such  rude  children,  and  walked  quickly  away. 
At  the  cabin  door  she  met  a  maid,  who,  coming  out 
on  deck  with  something  wrapped  carefully  in  an 
embroidered  shawl,  sat  down  on  one  of  the  empty 
benches. 

Scarcely  was  she  seated  when  the  two  boys 
pounced  down  upon  her  and  began  pulling  at  the 
blanket.  "Oh,  let  me  see  Beauty,  Fanchette,"  begged 
Howell.  "  Make  him  sit  up  and  do  some  tricks." 

The  maid  pushed  them  away  with  a  strong  hand, 
and  then  carefully  drew  aside  a  corner  of  the  cover- 
ing. Lloyd  gave  an  exclamation  of  pleasure,  for  the 
head  that  popped  out  was  that  of  a  bright  little 
French  poodle.  She  had  thought  many  times  that 
morning  of  the  two  Bobs,  and  good  old  Fritz,  dead 


32  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

and  gone,  of  Boots,  the  hunting-dog,  and  the  goat 
and  the  gobbler  and  the  parrot,  —  all  the  animals  she 
had  loved  and  played  with  at  Locust,  wishing  she 
had  them  with  her.  Now  as  she  saw  the  bright 
eyes  of  the  poodle  peeping  over  the  blanket,  she  for- 
got that  she  was  a  stranger,  and  running  across  the 
deck,  she  stooped  down  beside  it. 

"Oh,  the  darling  little  dog!"  she  exclaimed,  touch- 
ing the  silky  hair  softly.  "  May  I  hold  him  for  a 
minute  ? " 

The  maid  smiled,  but  shook  her  head.  "  Ah,  that 
the  madame  will  not  allow,"  she  said. 

"It  cost  a  thousand  dollars,"  explained  Howell, 
eagerly,  "  and  mamma  thinks  more  of  it  than  she 
does  of  us.  Doesn't  she,  Henny  ? " 

The  small  boy  nodded  with  a  finger  in  his  mouth. 

"Show  her  Beauty's  bracelet,  Fanchette,"  said 
Howell.  Turning  back  another  fold  of  the  blanket, 
the  maid  lifted  a  little  white  paw,  on  which  sparkled 
a  tiny  diamond  bracelet.  Lloyd  drew  a  long  breath 
of  astonishment.  "  Some  of  its  teeth  are  filled  with 
gold,"  continued  Howell.  "  We  had  to  stay  a  whole 
week  in  New  York  while  Beauty  was  in  the  dog 
hospital,  having  them  filled.  They  could  only  do  a 
little  at  a  time.  One  of  his  tricks  is  to  laugh  so 
that  he  shows  all  his  fillings.  Laugh,  Beauty  ! "  he 


WONDER-BALL   BEGINS   TO    UNWIND  33 

commanded.  "  Laugh,  old  fellow,  and  show  your 
gold  teeth ! " 

He  shook  a  dirty  finger  in  the  poodle's  face,  and 
it  obediently  stretched  its  mouth,  to  show  all  its  little 
gold-filled  teeth. 

"  See  !  "  exclaimed  Howell,  much  pleased.  "  Do  it 
again  ! " 

But  the  maid  interfered.  "  Your  mother  told  you 
not  to  touch  Beauty  again.  You'd  have  the  poor  lit- 
tle thing's  mouth  stretched  till  it  had  the  face-ache, 
if  you  weren't  watched  all  the  time.  Go  away ! 
You  are  a  naughty  boy  !  " 

Howell's  lips  shot  out  in  a  sullen  pout,  and  the 
maid,  not  knowing  what  he  might  do  next,  rose  with 
the  poodle  in  her  arms  and  walked  to  the  other  side 
•tf  the  vessel. 

"  Wish't  the  little  beast  was  dead !  "  he  muttered. 
*  I  get  scolded  and  punished  for  nothing  at  all  when- 
ever it  is  around.  It  and  Fidelia  !  I  haven't  any  use 
for  girls  and  puppy-dogs  !  " 

After  this  uncivil  remark  he  waited  for  the  angry 
retort  which  he  thought  would  naturally  follow,  but 
;o  his  surprise  Lloyd  only  laughed  good-naturedly. 
She  found  him  amusing,  even  if  he  was  rude  and 
cross,  and  she  could  not  wonder  that  he  had  such  an 
opinion  of  girls,  after  witnessing  his  quarrel  with 


34  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Fidelia.  The  boys  had  begun  it,  but  she  was  older 
and  could  have  turned  it  aside  had  she  wished. 
And  she  thought  it  perfectly  natural  that  he  should 
dislike  the  dog  if  he  thought  his  mother  preferred 
its  comfort  to  his. 

"  You'd  like  dogs  if  you  could  have  one  like  my 
old  Fritz,"  began  Lloyd,  glad  of  some  one  to  talk 
to.  Sitting  down  on  the  bench  that  the  maid  had 
left,  she  began  talking  of  him  and  the  pony  and  the 
other  pets  at  Locust.  At  first  the  boys  listened 
carelessly.  Howell  cracked  his  whip,  and  Hender- 
son slapped  his  feet  with  the  ends  of  the  reins  he 
wore.  They  were  not  used  to  having  stories  told 
them,  except  when  they  were  being  scolded,  and 
their  mother  or  the  maid  told  them  tales  of  what 
happens  to  bad  little  boys  when  they  will  not 
obey.  Although  Lloyd's  wild  ride  in  a  hand -car 
with  one  of  the  two  little  knights  began  thrill- 
ingly,  they  listened  with  one  foot  out,  ready  to  run 
at  first  word  of  the  moral  lecture  which  they 
thought  would  surely  come  at  the  end. 

The  poodle  had  a  maid  to  make  it  happy  and 
comfortable,  every  moment  of  its  pampered  little  life. 
The  boys  had  some  one  to  see  that  they  were 
properly  clothed  and  fed,  and  their  nursery  at 
home  looked  as  if  a  toy  store  had  been  emptied 


WONDER-BALL  BEGINS    TO    UNWIND  35 

into  it.  But  no  one  took  any  interest  in  their 
amusement.  When  they  asked  questions  the  an- 
swer always  was,  "  Oh,  run  along  and  don't  bother 
me  now."  There  were  no  quiet  bedtime  talks  for 
them  to  smooth  the  snarls  out  of  the  day.  Their 
mother  was  always  dining  out  or  receiving  company 
at  that  time,  and  their  nurse  hurried  them  to  sleep 
with  threats  of  the  bugaboos  under  the  bed  that 
would  catch  them  if  they  were  not  still.  They  sus- 
pected that  the  Little  Colonel's  stories  would  soon 
lead  to  a  lecture  on  quarrelling. 

Presently  they  forgot  their  fears  in  the  interest  of 
the  tale.  The  youngest  boy  sidled  a  little  nearer 
and  climbed  up  on  the  end  of  the  bench  beside  her. 
Then  Howell,  dragging  his  whip  behind  him,  came 
a  step  closer,  then  another,  till  he  too  was  on  the 
bench  beside  her. 

She  had  never  had  such  a  flattering  audience.  They 
never  took  their  eyes  from  her  face,  and  listened  with 
such  breathless  attention  that  she  talked  on  and  on, 
wondering  how  long  she  could  hold  their  interest. 

"  They  listen  to  me  just  as  people  do  to  Betty," 
she  thought,  proudly.  An  hour  went  by,  and  half  of 
another,  and  the  bugle  blew  the  first  dinner-call. 

"  Go  on,"  demanded  Howell,  edging  closer.  "  We 
ain't  hungry.  Are  we,  Henny  ?  " 


36  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"But  I  must  go  and  get  ready  for  dinner,"  said 
Lloyd,  rising. 

"  Will  you  tell  us  some  more  to-morrow  ? "  begged 
Howell,  holding  her  skirts  with  his  dirty  little  hand. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  promised  Lloyd,  laughing  and  break- 
ing loose  from  his  hold.  "  I'll  tell  you  as  many 
stories  as  you  want." 

It  was  a  rash  promise,  for  next  day,  no  sooner  had 
she  finished  breakfast  and  started  to  take  her  morn- 
ing walk  around  the  deck  with  her  father,  than  the 
boys  were  at  her  heels.  They  were  eating  bananas 
as  they  staggered  along,  and  as  fast  as  one  disap- 
peared another  was  dragged  out  of  their  blouses, 
which  seemed  pouched  out  all  around  their  waists 
with  an  inexhaustible  supply.  Up  and  down  they 
followed  her,  until  Papa  Jack  began  to  laugh,  and 
ask  what  she  had  done  to  tame  the  little  savages. 

As  soon  as  she  stopped  at  her  chair  they  dropped 
down  on  the  floor,  tailor-fashion,  waiting  for  her  to 
begin.  Their  devotion  amused  her  at  first,  and 
gratified  her  later,  when  the  English  woman  who 
had  complained  of  their  manners  stopped  to  speak 
to  her. 

"  You  are  a  real  little  '  good  Samaritan,'  "  she  said, 
"  to  keep  those  two  nuisances  quiet.  The  passengers 
owe  you  a  vote  of  thanks.  It  is  very  sweet  of  you. 


WONDER- BALL   BEGINS    TO    UNWIND  tf 

my  dear,  to  sacrifice  yourself  for  others  in  that 
way." 

Lloyd  grew  very  red.  She  had  not  looked  upon 
it  as  a  sacrifice.  She  had  been  amusing  herself. 
But  after  awhile  story-telling  did  become  very  tire- 
some as  a  steady  occupation.  She  groaned  when- 
ever she  saw  the  boys  coming  toward  her. 

Fidelia  joined  them  on  several  occasions,  but  her 
appearance  was  always  the  signal  for  a  quarrel  to 
begin.  Not  until  one  morning  when  the  boys  were 
locked  in  their  stateroom  for  punishment,  did  she 
have  a  chance  to  speak  to  Lloyd  by  herself. 

"The  boys  opened  a  port-hole  this  morning," 
explained  Fidelia.  "They  had  been  forbidden  to 
touch  it.  Poor  Beauty  was  asleep  on  the  couch  just 
under  it,  and  a  big  wave  sloshed  over  him  and 
nearly  drowned  him.  He  was  soaked  through.  It 
gave  him  a  chill,  and  mamma  is  in  a  terrible  way 
about  him.  Howl  and  Henny  told  Fanchette  they 
wanted  him  to  drown.  That's  why  they  did  it. 
They  will  be  locked  up  all  morning.  I  should  think 
that  you'd  be  glad.  I  don't  see  how  you  stand  them 
tagging  after  you  all  the  time.  They  are  the  mean- 
est boys  I  ever  knew." 

"They  are  not  mean  to  me,"  said  Lloyd.  "I 
can't  help  feelin'  sorry  for  them."  Then  she 


38  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

stopped  abruptly,  with  a  blush,  feeling  that  was  not 
a  polite  thing  to  say  to  the  boys'  sister. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  you  should  feel  sorry 
for  them,"  said  Fidelia,  angrily.  At  which  the  Little 
Colonel  was  more  embarrassed  than  ever.  She 
could  not  tell  Fidelia  that  it  was  because  a  little 
poodle  received  the  fondling  and  attention  that  be- 
longed to  them,  and  that  it  was  Fidelia's  continual 
faultfinding  and  nagging  that  made  the  boys  tease 
her.  So  after  a  pause  she  changed  the  subject  by 
asking  her  what  she  wanted  most  to  see  in  Europe. 

"  Nothing !  "  answered  Fidelia.  "  I  wouldn't  give 
a  penny  to  see  all  the  old  ruins  and  cathedrals  and 
picture  galleries  in  the  world.  The  only  reason  that 
I  care  to  go  abroad  is  to  be  able  to  say  I  have  been 
to  those  places  when  the  other  girls  brag  about  what 
they've  seen.  What  do  you  want  to  see  ? " 

"Oh,  thousands  of  things!"  exclaimed  Lloyd. 
"There  are  the  chateaux  where  kings  and  queens 
have  lived,  and  the  places  that  are  in  the  old  songs, 
like  Bonnie  Boon,  and  London  Bridge,  and  Twick- 
enham Ferry.  I  want  to  see  Denmark,  because 
Hans  Christian  Andersen  lived  there,  and  wrote  his 
fairy  tales,  and  London,  because  Dickens  and  Little 
Nell  lived  there.  But  I  think  I  shall  enjoy  Switzer- 
land most.  We  expect  to  stay  there  a  long  time. 


WONDER- BALL  BEGINS   TO    UNWIND  39 

It  is  such  a  brave  little  country.  Papa  has  told  me 
a  great  deal  about  its  heroes.  He  is  going  to  take 
me  to  see  the  Lion  of  Lucerne,  and  to  Altdorf, 
under  the  lime-tree,  where  William  Tell  shot  the 
apple.  I  love  that  story." 

"Well,  aren't  you  queer!"  exclaimed  Fidelia, 
opening  her  eyes  wide  and  looking  at  Lloyd  as  if  she 
were  some  sort  of  a  freak.  It  was  her  tone  and 
look  that  were  offensive,  more  than  her  words. 
Lloyd  was  furious. 

"No,  I  am  not  queah,  Miss  Sattawhite!"  she 
exclaimed,  moving  away  much  ruffled.  As  she 
flounced  toward  the  cabin,  her  eyes  very  bright  and 
her  cheeks  very  red,  she  looked  back  with  an  indig- 
nant glance.  "  I  wish  now  that  I'd  told  her  why  I'm 
sorry  for  Howl  and  Henny.  I'd  be  sorry  for  anybody 
that  had  such  a  rude  sistah  !  " 

But  there  were  other  children  on  the  vessel  whose 
acquaintance  Lloyd  made  before  the  week  was  over. 
She  played  checkers  and  quoits  with  the  boys,  and 
paper  dolls  with  the  girls,  and  one  sunny  morning 
she  was  invited  to  join  the  group  under  the  stairs, 
where  she  heard  the  story  of  the  white  prince  from 
beginning  to  end,  and  found  out  why  he  vanished. 

Those  were  happy  days  on  the  big  steamer,  de- 
spite the  fact  that  Howl  and  Henny  haunted  her 


40  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

like  two  hungry  little  shadows.  Sometimes  the 
captain  himself  came  down  and  walked  with  her. 
The  Shermans  sat  at  his  table,  and  he  had  grown 
quite  fond  of  the  little  Kentucky  girl  with  her  soft 
Southern  accent.  As  they  paced  the  deck  hand  in 
hand,  he  told  her  marvellous  tales  of  the  sea,  till  she 
grew  to  love  the  ship  and  the  heaving  water  world 
around  them,  and  wished  that  they  might  sail  on 
and  on,  and  never  come  to  land  until  the  end  of  the 
summer. 


CHAPTER   III. 

LLOYD    MEETS    HERO 

IT  was  July  when  they  reached  Switzerland. 
After  three  weeks  of  constant  travel,  it  seemed 
good  to  leave  boats  and  railroads  for  awhile,  and 
stop  to  rest  in  the  clean  old  town  of  Geneva.  The 
windows  of  the  big  hotel  dining-room  looked  out  on 
the  lake,  and  the  Little  Colonel,  sitting  at  breakfast 
the  morning  after  their  arrival,  could  scarcely  eat  for 
watching  the  scene  outside. 

Gay  little  pleasure  boats  flashed  back  and  forth 
on  the  sparkling  water.  The  quay  and  bridge  were 
thronged  with  people.  From  open  windows  down 
the  street  came  the  tinkle  of  pianos,  and  out  on  the 
pier,  where  a  party  of  tourists  were  crowding  on  to 
one  of  the  excursion  steamers,  a  band  was  playing 
its  merriest  holiday  music. 

Far  away  in  the  distance  she  could  see  the  shining 
snow  crown  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  it  gave  her  an  odd 
feeling,  as  if  she  were  living  in  a  geography  lesson, 
to  know  that  she  was  bounded  on  one  side  by  the 


42  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

famous  Alpine  mountain,  and  on  the  other  by  the 
River  Rh6ne,  whose  source  she  had  often  traced  on 
the  map.  The  sunshine,  the  music,  and  the  gay 
crowds  made  it  seem  to  Lloyd  as  if  the  whole  world 
were  out  for  a  holiday,  and  she  ate  her  melon  and 
listened  to  the  plans  for  the  day  with  the  sensation 
that  something  very  delightful  was  about  to  happen. 

"We'll  go  shopping  this  morning,"  said  Mrs. 
Sherman.  "  I  want  Lloyd  to  see  some  of  those 
wonderful  music  boxes  they  make  here  ;  the  dancing 
bears,  and  the  musical  hand-mirrors ;  the  chairs  that 
play  when  you  sit  down  in  them,  and  the  beer-mugs 
that  begin  a  tune  when  you  lift  them  up." 

Lloyd's  face  dimpled  with  pleasure,  and  she  began 
to  ask  eager  questions.  "  Couldn't  we  take  one  to 
Mom  Beck,  mothah  ?  A  lookin'-glass  that  would 
play  '  Kingdom  Comin',  when  she  picked  it  up  ?  It 
would  surprise  her  so  she  would  think  it  was  be- 
witched, and  she'd  shriek  the  way  she  does  when  a 
cattapillah  gets  on  her." 

Lloyd  laughed  so  heartily  at  the  recollection,  that 
an  old  gentleman  sitting  at  an  opposite  table  smiled 
in  sympathy.  He  had  been  watching  the  child  ever 
since  she  came  into  the  dining-room,  interested  in 
every  look  and  gesture.  He  was  a  dignified  old 
German  soldier,  tall  and  broad-shouldered,  with  gray 


LLOYD  MEETS  HERO  43 

hair  and  a  fierce-looking  gray  moustache  drooping 
heavily  over  his  mouth.  But  the  eyes  under  his 
shaggy  brows  were  so  kind  and  gentle  that  the 
shyest  child  or  the  sorriest  waif  of  a  stray  dog  would 
claim  him  for  a  friend  at  first  glance. 

The  Little  Colonel  was  so  busy  watching  the 
scene  from  the  window  that  she  did  not  see  him 
until  he  had  finished  his  breakfast  and  rose  from 
the  table.  As  he  came  toward  them  on  his  way  to 
the  door,  she  whispered,  "Look,  mothah !  He  has 
only  one  arm,  like  grandfathah.  I  wondah  if  he 
was  a  soldiah,  too.  Why  is  he  bowing  to  Papa 
Jack  ? " 

"  I  met  him  last  night  in  the  office,"  explained  her 
father,  when  the  old  gentleman  had  passed  out  of 
hearing.  "We  got  into  conversation  over  the  dog 
he  had  with  him  —  a  magnificent  St.  Bernard,  that 
had  been  trained  as  a  war  dog,  to  go  out  with  the 
ambulances  to  hunt  for  dead  and  wounded  soldiers. 
Major  Gerhart  von  Werner  is  the  old  man's  name. 
He  served  many  years  in  the  German  army,  but 
was  retired  after  the  siege  of  Strasburg.  The  clerk 
told  me  that  it  was  there  that  the  Major  lost  his 
arm,  and  received  the  emperor's  medal  for  some 
act  of  bravery.  He  is  well  known  here  in  Geneva, 
where  he  comes  every  summer  for  a  few  weeks." 


44  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  Oh,  I  hope  I'll  see  the  war  dog ! "  cried  the 
Little  Colonel.  "What  do  you  suppose  his  name 
is?" 

The  waiter,  who  was  changing  their  plates,  could 
not  resist  this  temptation  to  show  off  the  little  Eng- 
lish he  knew.  "  Hes  name  is  Hero,  mademoiselle," 
he  answered.  "  He  vair  smart  dog.  He  know  evair 
sing  somebody  say  to  him,  same  as  a  person." 

"  You'll  probably  see  him  as  we  go  out  to  the  car- 
riage," said  Mr.  Sherman.  "  He  follows  the  Major 
constantly." 

As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  Mrs.  Sherman 
went  up  to  her  room  for  her  hat.  Lloyd,  who  had 
worn  hers  down  to  breakfast,  wandered  out  into  the 
hall  to  wait  for  her.  There  was  a  tall,  carved  chair 
standing  near  the  elevator,  and  Lloyd  climbed  into 
it.  To  her  great  confusion,  something  inside  of  it 
gave  a  loud  click  as  she  seated  herself,  and  began  to 
play.  It  played  so  loudly  that  Lloyd  was  both 
startled  and  embarrassed.  It  seemed  to  her  that 
every  one  in  the  hotel  must  hear  the  noise,  and  know 
that  she  had  started  it. 

"  Silly  old  thing  ! "  she  muttered,  as  with  a  very  red 
face  she  slipped  down  and  walked  hurriedly  away. 
She  intended  to  go  into  the  reading-room,  but  in  her 
confusion  turned  to  the  left  instead  of  the  right,  and 


LLOYD   MEETS  HERO  45 

ran  against  some  one  coming  out  of  the  hotel  office. 
It  was  the  Major. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  your  pahdon  ! "  she  cried,  blushing 
still  more.  From  the  twinkle  in  his  eye  she  was 
sure  that  he  had  witnessed  her  mortifying  encounter 
with  the  musical  chair.  But  his  first  words  made 
her  forget  her  embarrassment.  He  spoke  in  the  best 
of  English,  but  with  a  slight  accent  that  Lloyd 
thought  very  odd  and  charming. 

"Ah,  it  is  Mr.  Sherman's  little  daughter.  He 
told  me  last  night  that  you  had  come  to  Switzerland 
because  it  was  a  land  of  heroes,  and  he  was  sure  that 
you  would  be  especially  interested  in  mine.  So 
come,  Hero,  my  brave  fellow,  and  be  presented  to 
the  little  American  lady.  Give  her  your  paw, 
sir !  " 

He  stepped  aside  to  let  the  great  creature  past 
him,  and  Lloyd  uttered  an  exclamation  of  delight,  he 
was  so  unusually  large  and  beautiful.  His  curly  coat 
of  tawny  yellow  was  as  soft  as  silk,  and  a  great  ruff 
of  white  circled  his  neck  like  a  collar.  His  breast 
was  white,  too,  and  his  paws,  and  his  eyes  had  a 
wistful,  human  look  that  went  straight  to  Lloyd's 
heart.  She  shook  the  offered  paw,  and  then  im- 
pulsively threw  her  arms  around  his  neck,  ex- 
claiming, "  Oh,  you  deah  old  fellow !  I  can't 


46  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

help  lovin'  you.  You're  the  beautifulest  dog  I  evah 
saw ! " 

He  understood  the  caress,  if  not  the  words,  for  he 
reached  up  to  touch  her  cheek  with  his  tongue,  and 
wagged  his  tail  as  if  he  were  welcoming  a  long-lost 
friend.  Just  then  Mrs.  Sherman  stepped  out  of  the 
elevator.  "  Good-bye,  Hero,"  said  the  Little  Colonel. 
"  I  must  go  now,  but  I  hope  I'll  see  you  when  I  come 
back."  Nodding  good-bye  to  the  Major,  she  followed 
her  mother  out  to  the  street,  where  her  father  stood 
waiting  beside  an  open  carriage. 

Lloyd  enjoyed  the  drive  that  morning  as  they  spun 
along  beside  the  river,  up  and  down  the  strange 
streets  with  the  queer  foreign  signs  over  the  shop 
doors.  Once,  as  they  drove  along  the  quay,  they 
met  the  Major  and  the  dog,  and  in  response  to  a 
courtly  bow,  the  Little  Colonel  waved  her  hand  and 
smiled.  The  empty  sleeve  recalled  her  grandfather, 
and  gave  her  a  friendly  feeling  for  the  old  soldier. 
She  looked  back  at  Hero  as  long  as  she  could  see  a 
gilmpse  of  his  white  and  yellow  curls. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  they  stopped  at  a  place 
where  Mrs.  Sherman  wanted  to  leave  an  enamelled 
belt-buckle  to  be  repaired.  Lloyd  was  not  interested 
in  the  show-cases,  and  could  not  understand  the  con- 
versation her  father  and  mother  were  having  with 


LLOYD  MEETS  HERO  47 

the  shopkeeper  about  enamelling.  So,  saying  that 
she  would  go  out  and  sit  in  the  carriage  until  they 
were  ready  to  come,  she  slipped  away. 

She  liked  to  watch  the  stir  of  the  streets.  It  was 
interesting  to  guess  what  the  foreign  signs  meant, 
and  to  listen  to  the  strange  speech  around  her. 
Besides,  there  was  a  band  playing  somewhere  down 
the  street,  and  children  were  tugging  at  their  nurses' 
hands  to  hurry  them  along.  Some  carried  dolls 
dressed  in  the  quaint  costumes  of  Swiss  peasants, 
and  some  had  balloons.  A  man  with  a  bunch  of 
them  like  a  cluster  of  great  red  bubbles,  had  just 
sold  out  on  the  corner. 

So  she  sat  in  the  sunshine,  looking  around  her 
with  eager,  interested  eyes.  The  coachman,  high  up 
on  his  box,  seemed  as  interested  as  herself ;  at  least, 
he  sat  up  very  straight  and  stiff.  But  it  was  only 
his  back  that  Lloyd  saw.  He  had  been  at  a  f£te  the 
night  before.  There  seems  to  be  always  a  holiday 
in  Geneva.  He  had  stayed  long  at  the  merry- 
making and  had  taken  many  mugs  of  beer.  They 
made  him  drowsy  and  stupid.  The  American  gen- 
tleman and  his  wife  stayed  long  in  the  enameller's 
shop.  He  could  scarcely  keep  his  eyes  open.  Pres- 
ently, although  he  never  moved  a  muscle  of  his  back 
and  sat  up  stiff  and  straight  as  a  poker,  he  was 


48  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

sound  asleep,  and  the  reins  in  his  grasp  slipped  lower 
and  lower  and  lower. 

The  horse  was  an  old  one,  stiffened  and  jaded  by 
much  hard  travel,  but  it  had  been  a  mettlesome  one 
in  its  younger  days,  with  the  recollection  of  many 
exciting  adventures.  Now,  although  it  seemed  half 
asleep,  dreaming,  maybe,  of  the  many  jaunts  it  had 
taken  with  other  American  tourists,  or  wondering  if 
it  were  not  time  for  it  to  have  its  noonday  nose-bag, 
it  was  really  keeping  one  eye  open,  nervously  watch- 
ing some  painters  on  the  sidewalk.  They  were  put- 
ting up  a  scaffold  against  a  building,  in  order  that 
they  might  paint  the  cornice. 

Presently  the  very  thing  happened  that  the  old 
horse  had  been  expecting.  A  heavy  board  fell  from 
the  scaffold  with  a  crash,  knocking  over  a  ladder, 
which  fell  into  the  street  in  front  of  the  frightened 
animal.  Now  the  old  horse  had  been  in  several 
runaways.  Once  it  had  been  hurt  by  a  falling  lad- 
der, and  it  had  never  recovered  from  its  fear  of  one. 
As  this  one  fell  just  under  it's  nose,  all  the  old  fright 
and  pain  that  caused  its  first  runaway  seemed  to 
come  back  to  its  memory.  In  a  frenzy  of  terror  it 
reared,  plunged  forward,  then  suddenly  turned  and 
dashed  down  the  street. 

The  plunge  and  sudden  turn  threw  the  sleeping 


LLOYD  MEETS  HERO  49 

coachman  from  the  box  to  the  street.  With  the 
lines  dragging  at  its  heels,  the  frightened  horse  sped 
on.  The  Little  Colonel,  clutching  frantically  at  the 
seat  in  front  of  her,  screamed  at  the  horse  to  stop. 
She  had  been  used  to  driving  ever  since  she  was  big 
enough  to  grasp  the  reins,  and  she  felt  that  if  she 
could  only  reach  the  dragging  lines,  she  could  control 
the  horse.  But  that  was  impossible.  All  she  could 
do  was  to  cling  to  the  seat  as  the  carriage  whirled 
dizzily  around  corners,  and  wonder  how  many  more 
frightful  turns  it  would  make  before  she  should  be 
thrown  out. 

The  white  houses  on  either  side  seemed  racing 
past  them.  Nurses  ran,  screaming,  to  the  pave- 
ments, dragging  the  baby-carriages  out  of  the  way. 
Dogs  barked  and  teams  were  jerked  hastily  aside. 
Some  one  dashed  out  of  a  shop  and  threw  his  arms 
up  in  front  of  the  horse  to  stop  it,  but,  veering  to 
one  side,  it  only  plunged  on  the  faster. 

Lloyd's  hat  blew  off.  Her  face  turned  white  with 
a  sickening  dread,  and  her  breath  began  to  come  in 
frightened  sobs.  On  and  on  they  went,  and,  as  the 
scenes  of  a  lifetime  will  be  crowded  into  a  moment 
in  the  memory  of  a  drowning  man,  so  a  thousand 
things  came  flashing  into  Lloyd's  mind.  She  saw 
the  locust  avenue  all  white  and  sweet  in  blossom 


50  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

time,  and  thought,  with  a  strange  thrill  of  self-pity, 
that  she  would  never  ride  under  its  white  arch  again. 
Then  she  saw  Betty's  face  on  the  pillow,  as  she  had 
lain  with  bandaged  eyes,  telling  in  her  tremulous 
little  voice  the  story  of  the  Road  of  the  Loving 
Heart.  Queerly  enough,  with  that  came  the  thought 
of  Howl  and  Henny,  and  she  had  time  to  be  glad 
that  she  had  amused  them  on  the  voyage,  and  made 
them  happy.  Then  came  her  mother's  face,  and 
Papa  Jack's.  In  a  few  moments,  she  told  herself, 
they  would  be  picking  up  her  poor,  broken,  lifeless 
little  body  from  the  street.  How  horribly  they 
would  feel.  And  then  —  she  screamed  and  shut  her 
eyes.  The  carriage  had  dashed  into  something  that 
tore  off  a  wheel.  There  was  a  crash  —  a  sound  as 
of  splintering  wood.  But  it  did  not  stop  their  mad 
flight.  With  a  horrible  bumping  motion  that  nearly 
threw  her  from  the  carriage  at  every  jolt,  they  still 
kept  on. 

They  were  on  the  quay  now.  The  noon  sun  on  the 
water  flashed  into  her  eyes  like  the  blinding  light 
thrown  back  from  a  looking-glass.  Then  something 
white  and  yellow  darted  from  the  crowd  on  the  pave- 
ment, and  catching  the  horse  by  the  bit,  swung  on 
heavily.  The  horse  dragged  along  for  a  few  paces, 
and  came  to  a  halt,  trembling  like  a  leaf. 


LLOYD  MEETS  HERO  5! 

A  wild  hurrah  went  up  from  both  sides  of  the 
street,  and  the  Little  Colonel,  as  she  was  lifted  out 
white  and  trembling,  saw  that  it  was  a  huge  St.  Ber- 
nard that  the  crowd  was  cheering. 

"Oh,  it's  H-Hero!"  she  cried,  with  chattering 
teeth.  "How  did  he  get  here?"  But  no  one 
understood  her  question.  The  faces  she  looked  into, 
while  beaming  with  friendly  interest,  were  all  foreign. 
The  eager  exclamations  on  all  sides  were  uttered  in 
a  foreign  tongue.  There  was  no  one  to  take  her 
home,  and  in  her  fright  she  could  not  remember  the 
name  of  their  hotel.  But  in  the  midst  of  her  con- 
fusion a  hearty  sentence  in  English  sounded  in  her 
ear,  and  a  strong  arm  caught  her  up  in  a  fatherly  em- 
brace. It  was  the  Major  who  came  pushing  through 
the  crowd  to  reach  her.  Her  grandfather  himself 
could  not  have  been  more  welcome  just  at  that  time, 
and  her  tears  came  fast  when  she  found  herself  in 
his  friendly  shelter.  The  shock  had  been  a  terrible 
one. 

"  Come,  liebes  Mddchen ! "  he  exclaimed,  gently, 
patting  her  shoulder.  "  Courage  !  We  are  almost 
at  the  hotel.  See,  it  is  on  the  corner,  there.  The 
father  and  mother  will  soon  be  here." 

Wiping  her  eyes,  he  led  her  across  the  street,  ex- 
plaining as  he  went  how  it  happened  that  he  and  the 


52  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

dog  were  on  the  street  when  she  passed.  They  had 
been  in  the  gardens  all  morning  and  were  going  home 
to  lunch,  when  they  heard  the  clatter  of  the  runaway 
far  down  the  street.  The  Major  could  not  see  who 
was  in  the  carriage,  only  that  it  appeared  to  be  a 
child.  He  was  too  old  a  man,  and  with  his  one  arm 
too  helpless  to  attempt  to  stop  it,  but  he  remembered 
that  Hero  had  once  shared  the  training  of  some 
collies  for  police  service,  before  it  had  been  decided 
to  use  him  as  an  ambulance  dog.  They  were  taught 
to  spring  at  the  bridles  of  escaping  horses. 

"  I  was  doubtful  if  Hero  remembered  those  early 
lessons,"  said  the  Major,  "  but  I  called  out  to  him 
sharply,  for  the  love  of  heaven  to  stop  it  if  he  could, 
and  that  instant  he  was  at  the  horse's  head,  hanging 
on  with  all  his  might.  Bravo,  old  fellow ! "  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  the  dog  as  he  spoke.  "We  are 
proud  of  you  this  day  !  " 

They  were  in  the  corridor  of  the  hotel  now,  and 
the  Little  Colonel,  kneeling  beside  Hero  and  putting 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  finished  her  sobbing  with 
her  fair  little  face  laid  fondly  against  his  silky  coat. 

"  Oh,  you  deah,  deah  old  Hero,"  she  said.  "  You 
saved  me,  and  I'll  love  you  fo'  evah  and  evah  !  " 

The  crowd  was  still  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  the 
corridor  full  of  excited  servants  and  guests,  when  Mr. 


LLOYD  MEETS  HERO  53 

and  Mrs.  Sherman  hurried  in.  They  had  taken  the 
first  carriage  they  could  hail  and  driven  as  fast  as 
possible  in  the  wake  of  the  runaway.  Mrs.  Sherman 
was  trembling  so  violently  that  she  could  scarcely 
stand,  when  they  reached  the  hotel.  The  clerk  who 
ran  out  to  assure  them  of  the  Little  Colonel's  safety 
was  loud  in  his  praises  of  the  faithful  St.  Bernard. 

Hero  had  known  many  masters.  Any  one  in  the 
uniform  of  the  Germany  army  had  authority  over 
him.  He  had  been  taught  to  obey  many  voices. 
Many  hands  had  fed  and  fondled  him,  but  no  hand 
had  ever  lain  quite  so  tenderly  on  his  head,  as  the 
Little  Colonel's.  No  one  had  ever  looked  into  his 
eyes  so  gratefully  as  she,  and  no  voice  had  ever 
thrilled  him  with  as  loving  tones  as  hers,  as  she  knelt 
there  beside  him,  calling  him  all  the  fond  endearing 
names  she  knew.  He  understood  far  better  than  if  he 
had  been  human,  that  she  loved  him.  Eagerly  licking 
her  hands  and  wagging  his  tail,  he  told  her  as  plainly 
as  a  dog  can  talk  that  henceforth  he  would  be  one  of 
her  best  and  most  faithful  of  friends. 

If  petting  and  praise  and  devoted  attention  could 
spoil  a  dog,  Hero's  head  would  certainly  have  been 
turned  that  day,  for  friends  and  strangers  alike  made 
much  of  him.  A  photographer  came  to  take  his 
picture  for  the  leading  daily  paper.  Before  nightfall 


54  THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HERO 

his  story  was  repeated  in  every  home  in  Geneva.  No 
servant  in  the  hotel  but  took  a  personal  pride  in  him 
or  watched  his  chance  to  give  him  a  sly  sweetmeat  or 
a  caress.  But  being  a  dog  instead  of  a  human,  the 
attention  only  made  him  the  more  lovable,  for  it 
made  him  feel  that  it  was  a  kind  world  he  lived  in 
and  everybody  was  his  friend. 

It  was  after  lunch  that  the  Little  Colonel  came  up- 
stairs carrying  the  diary,  now  half-filled  with  the 
record  of  their  journeying. 

"Put  it  all  down  in  the  book,  Papa  Jack,"  she 
demanded.  "  I'll  nevah  forget  to  my  dyin'  day,  but 
I  want  it  written  down  heah  in  black  and  white  that 
Hero  saved  me ! " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

HERO'S  STORY 

LATE  that  afternoon  the  Major  sat  out  in  the 
shady  courtyard  of  the  hotel,  where  vines,  potted 
plants,  and  a  fountain  made  a  cool  green  garden  spot. 
He  was  thinking  of  his  little  daughter,  who  had  been 
dead  many  long  years.  The  American  child,  whom 
his  dog  had  rescued  from  the  runaway  in  the  morn- 
ing, was  wonderfully  like  her.  She  had  the  same 
fair  hair,  he  thought,  that  had  been  his  little  Chris- 
tine's great  beauty  ;  the  same  delicate,  wild-rose  pink 
in  her  cheeks,  the  same  mischievous  smile  dimpling 
her  laughing  face.  But  Christine's  eyes  had  not 
been  a  starry  hazel  like  the  Little  Colonel's.  They 
were  blue  as  the  flax-flowers  she  used  to  gather  — 
thirty,  was  it  ?  No,  forty  years  ago. 

As  he  counted  the  years,  the  thought  came  to  him 
like  a  pain  that  he  was  an  old,  old  man  now,  all 
alone  in  the  world,  save  for  a  dog,  and  a  niece  whom 
he  scarcely  knew  and  seldom  saw. 

As  he  sat  there  with  his  head  bowed  down,  dream- 
55 


56  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

ing  over  his  past,  the  Little  Colonel  came  out  into 
the  courtyard.  She  had  dressed  early  and  gone 
down  to  the  reading-room  to  wait  until  her  mother 
was  ready  for  dinner,  but  catching  sight  of  the 
Major  through  the  long  glass  doors,  she  laid  down 
her  book.  The  lonely  expression  of  his  furrowed 
face,  the  bowed  head,  and  the  empty  sleeve  appealed 
to  her  strongly. 

"I  believe  I'll  go  out  and  talk  to  him,"  she 
thought.  "  If  grandfathah  were  away  off  in  a  strange 
land  by  himself  like  that,  I'd  want  somebody  to 
cheer  him  up." 

It  is  always  good  to  feel  that  one  is  welcome,  and 
Lloyd  was  glad  that  she  had  ventured  into  the  court- 
yard, when  she  saw  the  smile  that  lighted  the  Major's 
face  at  sight  of  her,  and  when  the  dog,  rising  at  her 
approach,  came  forward  joyfully  wagging  his  tail. 

The  conversation  was  easy  to  begin,  with  Hero  for 
a  subject.  There  were  many  things  she  wanted  to 
know  about  him :  how  he  happened  to  belong  to  the 
Major;  what  country  he  came  from;  why  he  was 
called  a  St.  Bernard,  and  if  the  Major  had  ever 
owned  any  other  dogs. 

After  a  few  questions  it  all  came  about  as  she  had 
hoped  it  would.  The  old  man  settled  himself  back 
in  his  chair,  thought  a  moment,  and  then  began  at 


HERO'S  STORY  57 

the  first  of  his  acquaintance  with  St.  Bernard  dogs, 
as  if  he  were  reading  a  story  from  a  book. 

"  Away  up  in  the  Alpine  Mountains,  too  high  for 
trees  to  grow,  where  there  is  only  bare  rock  and 
snow  and  cutting  winds,  climbs  the  road  that  is 
known  as  the  Great  St.  Bernard  Pass.  It  is  an  old, 
old  road.  The  Celts  crossed  it  when  they  invaded 
Italy.  The  Roman  legions  crossed  it  when  they 
marched  out  to  subdue  Gaul  and  Germany.  Ten 
hundred  years  ago  the  Saracen  robbers  hid  among 
its  rocks  to  waylay  unfortunate  travellers.  You  will 
read  about  all  that  in  your  history  sometime,  and 
about  the  famous  march  Napoleon  made  across  it  on 
his  way  to  Marengo.  But  the  most  interesting  fact 
about  the  road  to  me,  is  that  for  over  seven  hundred 
years  there  has  been  a  monastery  high  up  on  the 
bleak  mountain-top,  called  the  monastery  of  St. 
Bernard. 

"  Once,  when  I  was  travelling  through  the  Alps,  I 
stopped  there  one  cold  night,  almost  frozen.  The 
good  monks  welcomed  me  to  their  hospice,  as  they 
do  all  strangers  who  stop  for  food  and  shelter,  and 
treated  me  as  kindly  as  if  I  had  been  a  brother.  In 
the  morning  one  of  them  took  me  out  to  the  kennels, 
and  showed  me  the  dogs  that  are  trained  to  look  for 
travellers  in  the  snow.  You  may  imagine  with  what 


58  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

pleasure  I  followed  him,  and  listened  to  the  tales  he 
told  me. 

"  He  said  there  is  not  as  much  work  for  the  dogs 
now  as  there  used  to  be  years  ago.  Since  the  hos- 
pice has  been  connected  with  the  valley  towns  by 
telephone,  travellers  can  inquire  about  the  state  of 
the  weather  and  the  paths,  before  venturing  up  the 
dangerous  mountain  passes.  Still,  the  storms  begin 
with  little  warning  sometimes,  and  wayfarers  are 
overtaken  by  them  and  lost  in  the  blinding  snowfall. 
The  paths  fill  suddenly,  and  but  for  the  dogs  many 
would  perish." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  interrupted  Lloyd,  eagerly.  "There 
is  a  story  about  them  in  my  old  third  readah,  and  a 
pictuah  of  a  big  St.  Bernard  dog  with  a  flask  tied 
around  his  neck,  and  a  child  on  his  back." 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Major,  "it  is  quite  probable 
that  that  was  a  picture  of  the  dog  they  called  Barry. 
He  was  with  the  good  monks  for  twelve  years,  and 
in  that  time  saved  the  lives  of  forty  travellers.  There 
is  a  monument  erected  to  him  in  Paris  in  the  ceme- 
tery for  dogs.  The  sculptor  carved  that  picture  into 
the  stone,  the  noble  animal  with  a  child  on  his  back, 
as  if  he  were  in  the  act  of  carrying  it  to  the  hospice. 
Twelve  years  is  a  long  time  for  a  dog  to  suffer  such 
hardship  and  exposure.  Night  after  night  he  plunged 


HERO'S  STORY  59 

out  alone  into  the  deep  snow  and  the  darkness,  bark- 
ing at  the  top  of  his  voice  to  attract  the  attention  of 
lost  travellers.  Many  a  time  he  dropped  into  the 
drifts  exhausted,  with  scarcely  enough  strength  left 
to  drag  himself  back  to  the  hospice. 

"  Forty  lives  saved  is  a  good  record.  You  may  be 
sure  that  in  his  old  age  Barry  was  tenderly  cared  for. 
The  monks  gave  him  a  pension  and  sent  him  to 
Berne,  where  the  climate  is  much  warmer.  When 
he  died,  a  taxidermist  preserved  his  skin,  and  he  was 
placed  in  the  museum  at  Berne,  where  he  stands  to 
this  day,  I  am  told,  with  the  little  flask  around  his 
neck.  I  saw  him  there  one  time,  and  although  Barry 
was  only  a  dog,  and  I  an  officer  in  the  emperor's 
service,  I  stood  with  uncovered  head  before  him. 
For  he  was  as  truly  a  hero  and  served  human  kind 
as  nobly  as  if  he  had  fallen  on  the  field  of  battle. 

"He  had  been  trained  like  a  soldier  to  his  duty, 
and  no  matter  how  the  storms  raged  on  the  moun- 
tains, how  dark  the  night,  or  how  dangerous  the  paths 
that  led  along  the  slippery  precipices,  at  the  word 
of  command  he  sprang  to  obey.  Only  a  dumb  beast, 
some  people  would  call  him,  guided  only  by  brute 
instinct,  but  in  his  shaggy  old  body  beat  a  loving 
heart,  loyal  to  his  master's  command,  and  faithful  to 
his  duty. 


6O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  As  I  stood  there  gazing  into  the  kind  old  face,  I 
thought  of  the  time  when  I  lay  wounded  on  the  field 
of  Strasburg.  How  glad  I  would  have  been  to  have 
seen  some  dog  like  Barry  come  bounding  to  my  aid  ! 
I  had  fallen  in  a  thicket,  where  the  ambulance  corps 
did  not  discover  me  until  next  day.  I  lay  there  all 
that  black  night,  wild  with  pain,  groaning  for  water. 
I  could  see  the  lanterns  of  the  ambulances  as  they 
moved  about  searching  for  the  wounded  among  the 
many  dead,  but  was  too  faint  from  loss  of  blood  to 
raise  my  head  and  shout  for  help.  They  told  me 
afterward  that,  if  my  wound  could  have  received 
immediate  attention,  perhaps  my  arm  might  have 
been  saved. 

"  But  only  a  keen  sense  of  smell  could  have  traced 
me  in  the  dense  thicket  where  I  lay.  No  one  had 
thought  of  training  dogs  for  ambulance  service  then. 
The  men  did  their  best,  but  they  were  only  men, 
and  I  was  overlooked  until  it  was  too  late  to  save  my 
arm. 

"Well,  as  I  said,  I  stood  and  looked  at  Barry, 
wondering  if  it  were  not  possible  to  train  dogs  for 
rescue  work  on  battle-fields  as  well  as  in  mountain 
passes.  The  more  I  thought  of  it,  the  more  my 
longing  grew  to  make  such  an  attempt.  I  read 
everything  I  could  find  about  trained  dogs,  visited 


HERO'S  STORY  6 1 

kennels  where  collies  and  other  intelligent  sheep- 
dogs were  kept,  and  corresponded  with  many  people 
about  it.  Finally  I  went  to  Coblenz,  my  old  home 
in  Germany,  and  there  found  a  man  who  was  as 
much  interested  in  the  subject  as  I.  Herr  Bungartz 
is  his  name.  He  is  now  at  the  head  of  a  society 
to  which  I  belong,  called  the  German  Society  for 
Ambulance  Dogs.  It  has  over  a  thousand  members, 
including  many  princes,  and  nearly  all  the  leading 
generals  of  the  German  army. 

"  We  furnish  the  money  that  supports  the  kennels, 
and  the  dogs  are  bred  and  trained  free  for  the  army. 
Now  for  the  last  eight  years  it  has  been  my  greatest 
pleasure  to  visit  the  kennels,  where  as  many  as  fifty 
dogs  are  kept  constantly  in  training.  It  was  on  my 
last  visit  that  I  got  Hero.  His  leg  had  been  hurt 
in  some  accident  on  the  training  field.  It  was 
thought  that  he  was  too  much  disabled  to  ever  do 
good  service  again,  so  they  allowed  me  to  take  him. 
Two  old  cripples,  I  suppose  they  thought  we  were, 
comrades  in  misfortune. 

"  That  was  nearly  a  year  ago.  I  took  him  to  an 
eminent  surgeon,  told  him  his  history,  and  interested 
him  in  his  case.  He  treated  him  so  successfully, 
that  now,  as  you  see,  the  leg  is  entirely  well.  Some- 
times I  feel  that  it  is  my  duty  to  give  him  back  to 


62  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

the  service,  although  I  paid  for  the  rearing  of  a  fine 
Scotch  collie  in  his  stead.  He  is  so  unusually 
intelligent  and  well  trained.  But  it  would  be  hard 
to  part  with  such  a  good  friend.  Although  I  have 
had  him  less  than  a  year,  he  seems  very  much 
attached  to  me,  and  I  have  grown  more  fond  of  him 
than  I  would  have  believed  possible.  I  am  an  old 
man  now,  and  I  think  he  understands  that  he  is  all 
I  have.  Good  Hero !  He  knows  he  is  a  comfort  to 
his  old  master !  " 

At  the  sound  of  his  name,  uttered  in  a  sad  voice, 
the  great  dog  got  up  and  laid  his  head  on  the 
Major's  knee,  looking  wistfully  into  his  face. 

"  Of  co'se  you  oughtn't  to  give  him  back ! "  cried 
the  Little  Colonel.  "  If  he  were  mine,  I  wouldn't 
give  him  up  for  the  president,  or  the  emperor,  or  the 
czar,  or  anybody  I " 

"  But  for  the  soldiers,  the  poor  wounded  soldiers  !  " 
suggested  the  Major. 

Lloyd  hesitated,  looking  from  the  dog  to  the 
empty  sleeve  above  it.  "Well,"  she  declared,  at 
last,  "  I  wouldn't  give  him  up  while  the  country  is 
at  peace.  I'd  wait  till  the  last  minute,  until  there 
was  goin'  to  be  an  awful  battle,  and  then  I'd  make 
them  promise  to  let  me  have  him  again  when  the 
wah  was  ovah.  Just  the  minute  it  was  ovah.  It 


HERO'S  STORY  63 

would  be  like  givin'  away  part  of  your  family  to  give 
away  Hero." 

Suddenly  the  Major  spoke  to  the  dog  in  German, 
a  quick,  sharp  sentence  that  Lloyd  could  not  under- 
stand. But  Hero,  without  an  instant's  hesitation, 
bounded  from  the  courtyard,  where  they  sat,  into 
the  hall  of  the  hotel.  Through  the  glass  doors  she 
could  see  him  leaping  up  the  stairs,  and,  almost 
before  the  Major  could  explain  that  he  had  sent  him 
for  the  shoulder-bags  he  wore  in  service,  the  dog  was 
back  with  them  grasped  firmly  in  his  mouth. 

"  Now  the  flask,"  said  the  Major.  While  the  dog 
obeyed  the  second  order,  he  opened  the  bags  for 
Lloyd  to  examine  them.  They  were  marked  with  a 
red  cross  in  a  square  of  white,  and  contained  rolls  of 
bandages,  from  which  any  man,  able  to  use  his  arms, 
could  help  himself  until  his  rescuer  brought  further 
aid. 

The  flask  which  Hero  brought  was  marked  in  the 
same  way,  and  the  Major  buckled  it  to  his  collar, 
saying,  as  he  fastened  first  that  and  then  the  shoul- 
der-bags in  place,  "  When  a  dog  is  in  training,  sol- 
diers, pretending  to  be  dead  or  wounded,  are  hidden 
in  the  woods  or  ravines  and  he  is  taught  to  find  a 
fallen  body,  and  to  bark  loudly.  If  the  soldier  is  in 
some  place  too  remote  for  his  voice  to  bring  aid, 


64  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

the  dog  seizes  a  cap,  a  handkerchief,  or  a  belt,  —  any 
article  of  the  man's  clothing  which  he  can  pick  up, 
—  and  dashes  back  to  the  nearest  ambulance." 

"  What  a  lovely  game  that  would  make !  "  ex- 
claimed Lloyd.  "  Do  you  suppose  that  I  could  train 
the  two  Bobs  to  do  that  ?  We  often  play  soldiah  at 
Locust.  Now,  what  is  it  you  say  to  Hero  when  you 
want  him  to  hunt  the  men  ?  Let  me  see  if  he'll 
mind  me." 

The  Major  repeated  the  command. 

"  But  I  can't  speak  German,"  she  said,  in  dismay. 
"  What  is  it  in  English  ? " 

"  Hero  can't  understand  anything  but  German," 
said  the  Major,  laughing  at  the  perplexed  expression 
that  crept  into  the  Little  Colonel's  face. 

"  How  funny !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  nevah  thought 
of  that  befo'.  I  supposed  of  co'se  that  all  animals 
were  English.  Anyway,  Hero  comes  when  I  call 
him,  and  wags  his  tail  when  I  speak,  just  as  if  he 
undahstands  every  word." 

"  It  is  the  kindness  in  your  voice  he  understands, 
and  the  smile  in  your  eyes,  the  affection  in  your 
caress.  That  language  is  the  same  the  world  over, 
to  men  and  animals  alike.  But  he  never  would  start 
out  to  hunt  the  wounded  soldiers  unless  you  gave  this 
command.  Let  me  hear  if  you  can  say  it  after  me." 


HERO'S  STORY  65 

Lloyd  tripped  over  some  of  the  rough  sounds  as 
she  repeated  the  sentence,  but  tried  it  again  and  again 
until  the  Major  cried  "  Bravo  !  You  shall  have  more 
lessons  in  German,  liebes  Madchen,  until  you  can 
give  the  command  so  well  that  Hero  shall  obey  you 
as  he  does  me." 

Then  he  began  talking  of  Christine,  her  fair  hair, 
her  blue  eyes,  her  playful  ways  ;  and  Lloyd,  listening, 
drew  him  on  with  many  questions,  till  the  little  Ger- 
man maiden  seemed  to  stand  pictured  before  her, 
her  hands  rilled  with  the  blue  flax-flowers  of  the 
Fatherland. 

Suddenly  the  Major  arose,  bowing  courteously,  for 
Mrs.  Sherman,  seeing  them  from  the  doorway,  had 
smiled  and  started  toward  them.  Springing  up,  Lloyd 
ran  to  meet  her. 

"  Mothah,"  she  whispered,  "  please  ask  the  Majah 
to  sit  at  ou'  table  to-night  at  dinnah.  He's  such  a 
deah  old  man,  and  tells  such  interestin'  things,  and 
he's  lonesome.  The  tears  came  into  his  eyes  when 
he  talked  about  his  little  daughtah.  She  was  just 
my  age  when  she  died,  mothah,  and  he  thinks  she 
looked  like  me." 

The  Major's  courtly  manner  and  kind  face  had 
already  aroused  Mrs.  Sherman's  interest.  His  empty 
sleeve  reminded  her  of  her  father.  His  loneliness 


66  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

appealed  to  her  sympathy,  and  his  kindness  to  her 
little  daughter  had  won  her  deepest  appreciation.  She 
turned  with  a  cordial  smile  to  repeat  Lloyd's  invita- 
tion, which  was  gladly  accepted. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  a  warm  friendship. 
From  that  time  he  was  included  in  their  plans.  Now, 
in  nearly  all  their  excursions  and  drives,  there  were 
four  in  the  party  instead  of  three,  and  five,  very 
often.  Whenever  it  was  possible,  Hero  was  with 
them.  He  and  the  Little  Colonel  often  went  out 
together  alone.  It  grew  to  be  a  familiar  sight  in  the 
town,  the  graceful  fair-haired  child  and  the  big  tawny 
St.  Bernard,  walking  side  by  side  along  the  quay.  She 
was  not  afraid  to  venture  anywhere  with  such  a 
guard.  As  for  Hero,  he  followed  her  as  gladly  as 
he  did  his  master. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    RED    CROSS    OF    GENEVA 

A  WEEK  after  the  runaway  the  handsomest  collar 
that  could  be  bought  in  town  was  fastened  around 
Hero's  neck.  It  had  taken  a  long  time  to  get  it,  for 
Mr.  Sherman  went  to  many  shops  before  he  found 
material  that  he  considered  good  enough  for  the 
rescuer  of  his  little  daughter.  Then  the  jeweller 
had  to  keep  it  several  days  while  he  engraved  an 
inscription  on  the  gold  name-plate  —  an  inscription 
that  all  who  read  might  know  what  happened  on  a 
certain  July  day  in  the  old  Swiss  town  of  Geneva. 
On  the  under  side  of  the  collar  was  a  stout  link  like 
the  one  on  his  old  one,  to  which  the  flask  could  be 
fastened  when  he  was  harnessed  for  service,  and  on 
the  upper  side,  finely  wrought  in  enamel,  was  a  red 
cross  on  a  white  square. 

"  Papa  Jack  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  examining  it  with 

interest,   "that  is  the  same  design  that   is   on    his 

blanket  and  shouldah-bags.      Why,  it's  just  like  the 

Swiss  flag ! "  she  cried,  looking  out  at  the  banner 

67 


68  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

floating  from  the  pier.  "  Only  the  colours  are  turned 
around.  The  flag  has  a  white  cross  on  a  red  ground, 
and  this  is  a  red  cross  on  a  white  ground.  Why  did 
you  have  it  put  on  the  collah,  Papa  Jack  ? " 

"Because  he  is  a  Red  Cross  dog,"  answered  her 
father. 

"  No,  Papa  Jack.  Excuse  me  for  contradictin', 
but  the  Majah  said  he  was  a  St.  Bernard  dog." 

Mr.  Sherman  laughed,  but  before  he  could  explain 
he  was  called  to  the  office  to  answer  a  telegram. 
When  he  returned  Lloyd  had  disappeared  to  find  the 
Major,  and  ask  about  the  symbol  on  the  collar.  She 
found  him  in  his  favourite  seat  near  the  fountain,  in 
the  shady  courtyard.  Perching  on  a  bench  near  by 
with  Hero  for  a  foot-stool,  she  asked,  "  Majah,  is 
Hero  a  St.  Bernard  or  a  Red  Cross  dog  ? " 

"  He  is  both,"  answered  the  Major,  smiling  at  her 
puzzled  expression.  "He  is  the  first  because  he 
belongs  to  that  family  of  dogs,  and  he  is  the  second 
because  he  was  adopted  by  the  Red  Cross  Associa- 
tion, and  trained  for  its  service.  You  know  what 
that  is,  of  course." 

Still  Lloyd  looked  puzzled.  She  shook  her  head. 
"  No,  I  nevah  heard  of  it.  Is  it  something  Swiss  or 
German  ?  " 

"Never  heard  of  itJ"  repeated  the  Major.      He 


THE   RED    CROSS  OF  GENEVA  69 

spoke  in  such  a  surprised  tone  that  his  voice  sounded 
gruff  and  loud,  and  Lloyd  almost  jumped.  The 
harshness  was  so  unexpected. 

"  Think  again,  child,"  he  said,  sternly.  "  Surely 
you  have  been  told,  at  least,  of  your  brave  country- 
woman who  is  at  the  head  of  the  organisation  in 
America,  who  nursed  not  only  the  wounded  of  your 
own  land,  but  followed  the  Red  Cross  of  mercy  on 
many  foreign  battle-fields  !  " 

"  Oh,  a  hospital  nurse  ! "  said  Lloyd,  wrinkling 
her  forehead  and  trying  to  think.  "Miss  Alcott 
was  one.  Everybody  knows  about  her,  and  her 
'Hospital  Sketches'  are  lovely." 

"  No  !  no  ! "  exclaimed  the  Major,  impatiently. 
Lloyd,  feeling  from  his  tone  that  ignorance  on  this 
subject  was  something  he  could  not  excuse,  tried 
again. 

"  I've  heard  of  Florence  Nightingale.  In  one  of 
my  books  at  home,  a  Chatterbox,  I  think,  there  is 
a  picture  of  her  going  through  a  hospital  ward. 
Mothah  told  me  how  good  she  was  to  the  soldiahs, 
and  how  they  loved  her.  They  even  kissed  her 
shadow  on  the  wall  as  she  passed.  They  were  so 
grateful." 

"Ah,  yes,"  murmured  the  old  man.  "Florence 
Nightingale  will  live  long  in  song  and  story.  An 


7O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

angel  of  mercy  she  was,  through  all  the  horrors  of 
the  Crimean  War ;  but  she  was  an  English  woman, 
my  dear.  The  one  I  mean  is  an  American,  and  her 
name  ought  to  go  down  in  history  with  the  bravest 
of  its  patriots  and  the  most  honoured  of  its  bene- 
factors. I  learned  to  know  her  first  in  that  long 
siege  at  Strasburg.  She  nursed  me  there,  and  I 
have  followed  her  career  with  grateful  interest  ever 
since,  noting  with  admiration  all  that  she  has  done 
for  her  country  and  humanity  the  world  over. 

"  If  America  ever  writes  a  woman's  name  in  her 
temple  of  fame,  liebes  Mddchen  (I  say  it  with  un- 
covered head),  that  one  should  be  the  name  of  Clara 
Barton" 

The  old  soldier  lifted  his  hat  as  he  spoke,  and  re- 
placed it  so  solemnly  that  Lloyd  felt  very  uncomfort- 
able, as  if  she  were  in  some  way  to  blame  for  not 
knowing  and  admiring  this  Red  Cross  nurse  of  whom 
she  had  never  heard.  Her  face  flushed,  and  much 
embarrassed,  she  drew  the  toe  of  her  slipper  along 
Hero's  back,  answering,  in  an  abused  tone : 

"  But,  Majah,  how  could  I  be  expected  to  know 
anything  about  her  ?  There  is  nothing  in  ou'  school- 
books,  and  nobody  told  me,  and  Papa  Jack  won't  let 
me  read  the  newspapahs,  they're  so  full  of  horrible 
murdahs  and  things.  So  how  could  I  evah  find  out  ? 


THE  RED    CROSS  OF  GENEVA  Jl 

I  couldn't  learn  everything  in  twelve  yeahs,  and 
that's  all  the  longah  I've  lived." 

The  Major  laughed.  "  Forgive  me,  little  one  !  " 
he  cried,  seeing  the  distress  and  embarrassment  in 
her  face.  "  A  thousand  pardons  !  The  fault  is  not 
yours,  but  your  country's,  that  it  has  not  taught  its 
children  to  honour  its  benefactor  as  she  deserves.  I 
am  glad  that  it  has  been  given  to  me  to  tell  you  the 
story  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  things  that  ever 
happened  in  Switzerland  —  the  founding  of  the  Red 
Cross.  You  will  remember  it  with  greater  interest, 
I  am  sure,  because,  while  I  talk,  the  cross  of  the 
Swiss  flag  floats  over  us,  and  it  was  here  in  this  old 
town  of  Geneva  the  merciful  work  had  its  begin- 
ning." 

Lloyd  settled  herself  to  listen,  still  stroking 
Hero's  back  with  her  slipper  toe. 

"  He  was  my  friend,  Henri  Durant,  and  in  the  old 
days  of  chivalry  they  would  have  made  him  knight 
for  the  noble  thought  that  sprang  to  flower  in  his 
heart  and  to  fruitage  in  so  worthy  a  deed.  He  was 
travelling  in  Italy  years  ago,  and  happening  to  be 
near  the  place  where  the  battle  of  Solferino  was 
fought,  he  was  so  touched  by  the  sufferings  of  the 
wounded  that  he  stopped  to  help  care  for  them  in 
the  hospitals.  The  sights  he  saw  there  were  hor- 


72        THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

rible.  The  wounded  men  could  not  be  cared  for 
properly.  They  died  by  the  hundreds,  because 
there  were  not  enough  nurses  and  surgeons  and 
food. 

"It  moved  him  to  write  a  book  which  was  trans- 
lated into  several  languages.  People  of  many  coun- 
tries became  interested  and  were  aroused  to  a  desire 
to  do  something  to  relieve  the  deadly  consequences 
of  war.  Then  he  called  a  meeting  of  all  the  nations 
of  Europe.  That  was  over  thirty  years  ago.  Six- 
teen of  the  great  powers  sent  men  to  represent 
them.  They  met  here  in  Geneva  and  signed  a 
treaty.  One  by  one  other  countries  followed  their 
example,  until  now  forty  governments  are  pledged 
to  keep  the  promises  of  the  Red  Cross. 

"They  chose  that  as  their  flag  in  compliment  to 
Switzerland,  where  the  movement  was  started.  You 
see  they  are  the  same  except  that  the  colours  are 
reversed. 

"Now,  according  to  that  treaty,  wherever  the 
Red  Cross  goes,  on  sea  or  on  land,  it  means  peace 
and  safety  for  the  wounded  soldiers.  In  the  midst 
of  the  bloodiest  battle,  no  matter  who  is  hurt,  Turk 
or  Russian,  Japanese  or  Spaniard,  Armenian  or 
Arab,  he  is  bound  to  be  protected  and  cared  for. 
No  nurse,  surgeon,  or  ambulance  bearing  that  Red 


THE  RED    CROSS  OF  GENEVA  J$ 

Cross  can  be  fired  upon.  They  are  allowed  to  pass 
wherever  they  are  needed. 

"Before  the  nations  joined  in  that  treaty,  the 
worst  horror  of  war  was  the  fate  of  a  wounded 
soldier,  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Better 
a  thousand  times  to  be  killed  in  battle,  than  to  be 
taken  prisoner.  Think  of  being  left,  bleeding  and 
faint,  on  an  enemy's  field  till  your  clothes  froze  to  the 
ground,  and  no  one  merciful  enough  to  give  you  a 
crust  of  bread  or  a  drop  of  water.  Think  of  the 
dying  piled  with  the  dead  and  left  to  the  pitiless 
rays  of  a  scorching,  tropic  sun.  That  can  never 
happen  again,  thank  Heaven  ! 

"  In  time  of  peace,  money  and  supplies  are  gath- 
ered and  stored  by  each  country,  ready  for  use  at 
the  first  signal  of  war.  In  my  own  country,  the 
empress  became  the  head  of  the  branch  in  Ger- 
many. Soon  after  the  Franco-Prussian  war  began, 
and  then  her  only  daughter,  the  Grand  Duchess 
Louise  of  Baden,  turned  all  her  beautiful  castles  into 
r,  i!itary  hospitals,  and  went  herself  to  superintend 
the  work  of  relief. 

"  Vour  country  did  not  join  with  us  at  first.  You 
were  having  a  terrible  war  at  home;  the  one  in 
which  your  grandfather  fought.  All  this  time  Clara 
Barton  was  with  the  soldiers  on  their  bloodiest  bat- 


74  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

tie-fields.  When  you  go  home,  ask  your  grandfather 
about  the  battles  of  Bull  Run  and  Antietam,  Fred- 
ericksburg  and  the  Wilderness.  She  was  there. 
She  stood  the  strain  of  nursing  in  sixteen  such  awful 
places,  going  from  cot  to  cot  among  the  thousands  of 
wounded,  comforting  the  dying,  and  dragging  many 
a  man  back  from  the  very  grave  by  her  untiring, 
unselfish  devotion. 

"  When  the  war  was  over,  she  spent  four  years 
searching  for  the  soldiers  reported  missing.  Hun- 
dreds and  hundreds  of  pitiful  letters  came  to  her, 
giving  name,  regiment,  and  company  of  some  son  or 
husband  or  brother,  who  had  marched  away  to  the 
wars  and  never  returned.  These  names  could  not 
be  found  among  the  lists  of  the  killed.  They  were 
simply  reported  as  '  missing ' ;  whether  dead  or  a 
deserter,  no  one  could  tell.  She  had  spent  weeks 
at  Andersonville  the  summer  after  the  war,  identify- 
ing and  marking  the  graves  there.  She  marked 
over  twelve  thousand.  So  when  these  letters  came 
imploring  her  aid,  she  began  the  search,  visiting  the 
old  prisons,  and  trenches  and  hospitals,  until  she  re- 
moved from  twenty  thousand  names  the  possible 
suspicion  that  the  men  who  bore  them  had  been 
deserters. 

"  No  wonder  that  she  came  to  Europe  completely 


THE  RED    CROSS  OF  GENEVA  J$ 

broken  down  in  health,  so  exhausted  by  her  long, 
severe  labours  that  her  physicians  told  her  she 
must  rest  several  years.  But  hardly  was  she  set- 
tled here  in  Switzerland  when  the  Franco-Prussian 
war  broke  out,  and  the  Red  Cross  sought  her  aid, 
knowing  how  valuable  her  long  experience  in  nursing 
would  be  to  them.  She  could  not  refuse  their  ap- 
peals, and  once  more  started  in  the  wake  of  powder 
smoke,  and  cannon's  roar. 

"  But  I'll  not  start  on  that  chapter  of  her  life, 
liebes  Mddchen.  I  would  not  know  where  to  stop. 
It  was  there  I  met  her,  there  she  nursed  me  back  to 
life ;  then  I  learned  to  appreciate  her  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  humankind.  This  second  long  siege  against 
suffering  made  her  an  invalid  for  many  years. 

"The  other  nations  wondered  why  America  re- 
fused to  join  them  in  their  humane  work.  All  other 
civilised  countries  were  willing  to  lend  a  hand.  But 
Clara  Barton  knew  that  it  was  because  the  people 
were  ignorant  of  its  real  purpose  that  they  did  not 
join  the  alliance,  and  she  promised  that  she  would 
devote  the  remainder  of  her  life,  if  need  be,  to 
showing  America  that  as  long  as  she  refused  to  sign 
that  treaty,  she  was  standing  on  a  level  with  barbar- 
ous and  heathen  countries. 

"  For  years  she  was  too  ill  to  push  the  work  she 


76  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

had  set  for  herself.  When  her  strength  at  last  re- 
turned, she  had  to  learn  to  walk.  At  last,  how- 
ever, she  succeeded.  America  signed  the  treaty. 
Then,  through  her  efforts,  the  American  National 
Red  Cross  was  organised.  She  was  made  president 
of  it.  While  no  war,  until  lately,  has  called  for  its 
services,  the  Red  Cross  has  found  plenty,  to  do  in 
times  of  great  national  calamities.  You  have  had 
terrible  fires  and  floods,  cyclones,  and  scourges  of 
yellow  fever.  Then  too,  it  has  taken  relief  to  Tur- 
key and  lately  has  found  work  in  Cuba. 

"  I  know  that  you  would  like  to  look  into  Miss 
Barton's  jewel-box.  Old  Emperor  William  himself 
gave  her  the  Iron  Cross  of  Prussia.  The  Grand 
Duke  and  Duchess  of  Baden  sent  her  the  Gold 
Cross  of  Remembrance.  Medals  and  decorations 
from  many  sovereigns  are  there  —  the  Queen  of 
Servia,  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  the  Prince  of  Armenia. 
Never  has  any  American  woman  been  so  loved  and 
honoured  abroad,  and  never  has  an  American  woman 
been  more  worthy  of  respect  at  home.  It  must  be  a 
great  joy  to  her  now,  as  she  sits  in  the  evening  of 
life,  to  count  her  jewels  of  remembrance,  and  feel 
that  she  has  done  so  much  to  win  the  gratitude  of 
her  fellow  creatures. 

"  You  came  to  visit  Switzerland  because  it  is  the 


THE  RED    CROSS  OF  GENEVA  JJ 

home  of  many  heroes ;  but  let  me  tell  you,  my  child, 
this  little  republic  has  more  to  show  the  world  than 
its  William  Tell  chapels  and  its  Lion  of  Lucerne.  As 
long  as  the  old  town  of  Geneva  stands,  the  world  will 
not  forget  that  here  was  given  a  universal  banner  of 
peace,  and  here  was  signed  its  greatest  treaty  —  the 
treaty  of  the  Red  Cross." 

As  the  Major  stopped,  the  Little  Colonel  looked  up 
at  the  white  cross  floating  above  the  pier,  and  then 
down  at  the  red  one  on  Hero's  collar,  and  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"  I  wish  I  could  do  something  like  that ! "  she  ex- 
claimed, earnestly.  "  I  used  to  wish  that  I  could  go 
out  like  Joan  of  Arc  to  do  some  great  thing  that 
would  make  people  write  books  about  me,  and  carve 
me  on  statues,  and  paint  pictures  and  sing  songs  in 
my  honah,  but  I  believe  that  now  I'd  rathah  do  some- 
thing bettah  Jihkn  ride  off  to  battle  on  a  prancin' 
white  chargah.  Thank  you,  Majah,  for  tellin*  me 
the  story.  I'm  goin'  for  a  walk  now.  May  I  take 
Hero?" 

A  few  minutes  later  the  two  were  wandering  along 
beside  the  water  together,  the  Little  Colonel  dream- 
ing day-dreams  of  valiant  deeds  that  she  might  do 
some  day,  so  that  kings  would  send  her  a  Gold  Cross 
of  Remembrance,  and  men  would  say  with  uncovered 


78  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

heads,  as  the  old  Major  had  done,  "  If  America  ever 
writes  a  woman's  name  in  her  temple  of  fame,  that 
one  should  be  the  name  of  Lloyd  Sherman  —  The 
Little  Colonel!" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    WONDER  -  BALL'S    BEST    GIFT 

As  the  time  drew  near  for  them  to  move  north- 
ward, Lloyd  began  counting  the  hours  still  left  to  her 
to  spend  with  her  new-found  friends. 

"  Only  two  moah  days,  mothah,"  she  sighed. 
"  Only  two  moah  times  to  go  walking  with  Hero.  It 
seems  to  me  that  I  can't  say  good-bye  and  go  away, 
and  nevah  see  him  again  as  long  as  I  live  ! " 

"  He  is  going  with  us  part  of  the  way,"  answered 
Mrs.  Sherman.  "  The  Major  told  us  last  night  that 
he  had  decided  to  visit  his  niece  who  lives  at  Zurich. 
We  will  stop  first  for  a  few  days  at  a  little  town 
called  Zug,  beside  a  lake  of  the  same  name.  There 
is  a  William  Tell  chapel  near  there  that  the  Major 
wants  to  show  us,  and  he  will  go  up  the  Rigi  with  us. 
I  think  he  dreads  parting  with  you  fully  as  much  as 
you  do  from  Hero.  His  eyes  follow  every  movement 
you  make.  So  many  times  in  speaking  of  you  he 
has  called  you  Christine." 

"  I  know,"  answered  Lloyd,  thoughtfully.  "  He 
79 


8O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

seems  to  mix  me  up  with  her  in  his  thoughts,  all  the 
time.  He  is  so  old  I  suppose  he  is  absent-minded. 
When  I'm  as  old  as  he  is,  I  won't  want  to  travel  around 
as  he  does.  I'll  want  to  settle  down  in  some  com- 
fortable place  and  stay  there." 

"  From  what  he  said  last  night,  I  judge  that  this  is 
the  last  time  he  expects  to  visit  that  part  of  Switzer- 
land. When  he  was  a  little  boy  he  used  to  visit 
his  grandmother,  who  lived  near  Zug.  The  chalet 
where  she  lived  is  still  standing,  and  he  wants  to  see 
it  once  more,  he  said,  before  he  dies." 

"  He  must  know  lots  of  stories  about  the  place," 
said  Lloyd. 

"  He  does.  He  has  tramped  all  over  the  mountain 
back  of  the  town  after  wild  strawberries,  followed  the 
peasants  to  the  mowing,  and  gone  to  many  a  fete  in 
the  village.  We  are  fortunate  to  have  such  an 
interesting  guide." 

"  I  wish  that  Betty  could  be  with  us  to  hear  all  the 
stories  he  tells  us,"  said  Lloyd,  beginning  to  look  for- 
ward to  the  journey  with  more  pleasure,  now  that  she 
knew  there  was  a  prospect  of  being  entertained  by 
the  Major.  Usually  she  grew  tired  of  the  confine- 
ment in  the  little  railway  carriages  where  there  were 
no  aisles  to  walk  up  and  down  in,  and  fidgeted  and 
yawned  and  asked  the  time  of  day  at  every  station. 


THE    WONDER- BALDS  BEST  GIFT  Si 

During  the  first  part  of  the  journey  toward  Zug, 
the  Major  had  little  to  say.  He  leaned  wearily  back 
in  his  seat  with  his  eyes  closed  much  of  the  time. 
But  as  they  began  passing  places  that  were  con- 
nected with  interesting  scenes  of  his  childhood,  he 
roused  himself,  and  pointed  them  out  with  as  much 
enjoyment  as  if  he  were  a  schoolboy,  coming  home  on 
his  first  vacation. 

"  See  those  queer  little  towers  still  left  standing 
on  the  remnants  of  the  old  town  wall,"  he  said  as 
they  approached  Zug.  "  The  lake  front  rests  on  a 
soft,  shifting  substratum  of  sand,  and  there  is  danger, 
when  the  water  is  unusually  low,  that  it  may  not  be 
able  to  support  the  weight  of  the  houses  built  upon 
it.  One  day,  over  four  hundred  years  ago,  part 
of  the  wall  and  some  of  the  towers  sank  down  into 
the  lake  with  twenty-six  houses. 

"  I  have  heard  my  grandmother  tell  of  it,  many  a 
time,  as  she  heard  the  tale  from  her  grandmother. 
Many  lives  were  lost  that  day,  and  there  was  a  great 
panic.  Later  in  the  day,  some  one  saw  a  cradle  float- 
ing out  in  the  lake,  and  when  it  was  drawn  in,  there 
lay  a  baby,  cooing  and  kicking  up  his  heels  as  happily 
as  if  cradle-rides  on  the  water  were  common  occur- 
rences. He  was  the  little  son  of  the  town  clerk,  and 
grew  up  to  be  one  of  my  ancestors.  Grandmother 


82  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

was  very  fond  of  telling  that  tale,  how  the  baby 
smiled  on  his  rescuers,  and  what  a  fine,  pleasant  man 
he  grew  up  to  be,  beloved  by  the  whole  village. 

"  It  has  not  been  much  over  a  dozen  years  since 
another  piece  of  the  town  sank  down  into  the  water. 
A  long  stretch  of  lake  front  with  houses  and  gardens 
and  barns  was  sucked  under." 

"  How  dreadful !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  with  a  shiver. 
"  Let  us  go  somewhere  else,  Papa  Jack,"  she  begged. 
"  I  don't  want  to  sleep  in  a  place  where  the  bottom 
may  drop  out  any  minute." 

Her  father  laughed  at  her  fears,  and  the  Major 
assured  her  that  they  would  not  take  her  to  a  hotel 
near  the  water's  edge. 

"  We  are  going  to  the  other  side  of  the  town,  to  an 
inn  that  stands  close  against  the  mountainside.  The 
inn-keeper  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  who  has  lived 
here  all  his  life." 

In  spite  of  all  they  said  to  quiet  her  fears,  the 
Little  Colonel  was  far  from  feeling  comfortable,  and 
took  small  pleasure  at  first  in  going  to  see  the  sights 
of  the  quaint  little  town.  She  was  glad  when  they 
pushed  away  from  the  pier  next  morning,  in  the 
steamboat  that  was  to  take  them  across  the  lake  to 
the  William  Tell  chapel.  She  dreaded  to  return,  but 
a  handful  of  letters  from  Lloydsboro  Valley,  and  one 


THE    WONDER -BALL'S  BEST  GIFT  83 

apiece  from  Betty  and  Eugenia  that  she  found  await- 
ing her  at  the  inn,  made  her  forget  the  shifting  sands 
below  her.  She  read  and  re-read  some  of  them,  an- 
swered several,  and  then  began  to  look  for  the  Major 
and  Hero.  They  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 

They  went  away  directly  after  lunch,  her  father 
told  her,  to  the  chalet  on  the  mountain  back  of  the 
town.  "You  will  have  to  be  content  with  my 
humble  society,"  he  added.  "You  can't  expect  to 
be  always  escorted  by  titled  soldiers  and  heroes." 

"Now  you're  teasin',"  said  Lloyd,  with  a  playful 
pout.  "  But  I  do  wish  that  the  Majah  had  left  Hero. 
There  are  so  few  times  left  for  us  to  go  walkin' 
togethah." 

"  I'm  afraid  that  you  look  oftener  at  that  dog  than 
you  do  at  the  scenery  and  the  foreign  sights  that 
you  came  over  here  to  see,"  said  her  father,  with  a 
smile.  "  You  can  see  dogs  in  Lloydsboro  Valley  any 
day." 

"  But  none  like  Hero,"  cried  the  Little  Colonel, 
loyally.  "  And  I  am  noticin'  the  sights,  Papa  Jack.  I 
think  there  was  nevah  anything  moah  beautiful  than 
these  mountains,  and  I  just  love  it  heah  when  it  is  so 
sunny  and  still.  Listen  to  the  goat- bells  tinklin' 
away  up  yondah  where  that  haymakah  is  climbing 
with  a  pack  of  hay  tied  on  his  shouldahs  !  And  how 


84  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

deep  and  sweet  the  church-bell  sounds  down  heah  in 
the  valley  as  it  tolls  across  the  watah  !  The  lake 
looks  as  blue  as  the  sapphires  in  mothah's  necklace. 
The  pictuah  it  makes  for  me  is  one  of  the  loveliest 
things  that  my  wondah-ball  has  unrolled.  Nobody 
could  have  a  bettah  birthday  present  than  this  trip 
has  been.  The  only  thing  about  it  that  has  made  me 
unhappy  for  a  minute  is  that  I  must  leave  Hero  and 
nevah  see  him  again.  He  follows  me  just  as  well 
now  as  he  does  his  mastah." 

The  Major  came  back  from  his  long  climb  up  the 
mountain,  very  tired.  "  It  is  more  than  I  should 
have  undertaken  the  first  day,"  he  said,  "but  back 
here  in  the  scenes  of  my  boyhood  I  find  it  hard  to 
realise  that  I  am  an  old,  old  man.  I'll  be  rested  in 
the  morning,  however,  ready  for  whatever  comes." 

But  in  the  morning  he  was  still  much  exhausted, 
and  came  down-stairs  leaning  heavily  on  his  cane. 
He  asked  to  be  excused  from  going  up  on  the  Rigi 
with  them.  He  said  that  he  would  stay  at  home  and 
sit  in  the  sun  and  rest.  They  offered  to  postpone 
the  trip,  but  he  insisted  on  their  going  without  him. 
They  must  be  moving  on  to  Zurich,  soon,  he  re- 
minded them,  and  they  might  not  have  another  day 
of  such  perfect  weather,  for  the  excursion. 

Hero  stood  looking  from  the  Major  in  his  chair,  to 


THE    WONDER -BALL'S  BEST  GIFT  85 

the  Little  Colonel,  standing  with  her  hat  and  jacket 
on,  ready  to  start.  He  could  not  understand  why  he 
and  his  master  should  be  left  behind,  and  walked 
from  one  to  the  other,  wagging  his  tail  and  looking 
up  question ingly  into  their  faces. 

"  Go,  if  you  wish,"  said  the  Major,  kindly  patting 
his  head.  "Go  and  take  good  care  of  thy  little 
Christine.  Let  no  harm  befall  her  this  day  !  "  The 
dog  bounded  away  as  if  glad  of  the  permission,  but 
at  the  door  turned  back,  and  seeing  that  the  Major 
was  not  following,  picked  up  his  hat  in  his  mouth. 
Then,  carrying  it  back  to  the  Major,  stood  looking  up 
into  his  master's  face,  wagging  his  tail. 

The  Major  took  the  hat  and  laid  it  on  the  table 
beside  him.  "  No,  not  to-day,  good  friend,"  he  said, 
smiling  at  the  dog's  evident  wish  to  have  him  go 
also.  "You  may  go  without  me,  this  time.  Call 
him,  Christine,  if  you  wish  his  company." 

"  Come  Hero,  come  on,"  called  Lloyd.  "  It's  all 
right." 

The  Major  waved  his  hand  toward  her,  saying, 
"  Go,  Hero.  Guard  her  well  and  bring  her  back 
safely.  The  dear  little  Christine  !  "  The  name  was 
uttered  almost  in  a  whisper. 

With  a  quick,  short  bark,  Hero  started  after  the 
Little  Colonel,  staying  so  closely  by  her  side  that 


86  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

they  entered  the  train  together  before  the  guard  could 
protest.  If  he  could  have  resisted  the  appealing  look 
in  the  Little  Colonel's  eyes  as  she  threw  an  arm  pro- 
tectingly  around  Hero's  neck,  he  could  not  find  it  in 
his  heart  to  refuse  the  silver  that  Papa  Jack  slipped 
into  his  hand  ;  so  for  once  the  two  comrades  travelled 
side  by  side.  Hero  sat  next  the  window,  and  looked 
out  anxiously,  as  the  little  mountain  engine  toiled  up 
the  steep  ascent,  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  top. 

It  was  noon  when  they  reached  the  hotel  on  the 
summit  where  they  stopped  for  lunch. 

"  How  solemn  it  makes  you  feel  to  be  up  so  high 
above  all  the  world  !  "  said  Lloyd,  in  an  awed  tone,  as 
they  walked  around  that  afternoon,  and  took  turns 
looking  through  the  great  telescope,  at  the  valley 
spread  out  like  a  map  below  them. 

"  How  tiny  the  lake  looks,  and  the  town  is  like  a 
toy  village !  I  thought  that  the  top  of  a  mountain 
went  up  to  a  fine  point  like  a  church  steeple,  and 
that  there  wouldn't  be  a  place  to  stand  on  when  you 
got  there.  Seems  that  way  when  you  look  up  at  it 
from  the  valley.  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  it  is 
big  enough  to  have  hotels  built  on  it  and  lots  and  lots 
of  room  left  ovah.  When  the  Majah  said  to  Hero, 
in  such  a  solemn  way,  '  Take  good  care  of  thy  little 
Christine,  let  no  harm  befall  her  this  day,'  I  thought 


THE    WONDER-BALL'S  BEST  GIFT  87 

maybe  he  wanted  Hero  to  hold  my  dress  in  his  teeth, 
so  that  I  couldn't  fall  off." 

Mrs.  Sherman  laughed  and  Mr.  Sherman  said,  "  Do 
you  know  that  you  are  actually  up  above  the  clouds  ? 
What  seems  to  be  mist,  rolling  over  the  valley  down 
there  like  a  dense  fog,  is  really  cloud.  In  a  short 
time  we  shall  not  be  able  to  see  through  it." 

"  Oh,  oh  !  "  cried  the  Little  Colonel,  in  astonish- 
ment. "  Really,  Papa  Jack  ?  I  always  thought  that 
if  I  could  get  up  into  the  clouds  I  could  reach  out 
and  touch  the  moon  and  the  stars.  Of  co'se  I  know 
bettah  now,  but  I  should  think  I'd  be  neah  enough 
to  see  them." 

"No,"  answered  her  father,  "that  is  one  of  the 
sad  facts  of  life.  No  matter  how  loudly  we  may  cry 
for  the  moon,  it  is  hung  too  high  for  us  to  reach,  and 
the  'forget-me-nots  of  the  angels,'  as  Longfellow  calls 
the  stars,  are  not  for  hands  like  ours  to  pick.  But  in 
a  very  little  while  I  think  that  we  shall  see  the  light- 
ning below  us.  Those  clouds  down  there  are  full  of 
rain.  They  may  rise  high  enough  to  give  us  a  wet- 
ting, so  it  would  be  wise  for  us  to  hurry  back  to  the 
hotel." 

"  It  is  the  strangest  thing  that  evah  happened  to 
me  in  all  my  life !  "  said  Lloyd  a  few  minutes  later, 
as  they  sat  on  the  hotel  piazza,  watching  the  storm 


88  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

below  them.  Overhead  the  summer  sun  was  shining 
brightly,  but  just  below  the  heavy  storm  clouds  rolled, 
veiling  all  the  valley  from  sight.  They  could  see  the 
forked  tongues  of  lightning  darting  back  and  forth 
far  below  them,  and  hear  the  heavy  rumble  of  thunder. 

"  It  seems  so  wondahful  to  think  that  we  are  safe 
up  above  the  storm.  Look !  There  is  a  rainbow ! 
And  there  is  anothah  and  anothah  !  Oh,  it  is  so  beau- 
tiful, I'm  glad  it  rained  !  " 

The  storm,  that  had  lasted  for  nearly  an  hour,  grad- 
ually cleared  away  till  the  valley  lay  spread  out  before 
them  once  more,  in  the  sunshine,  green  and  dripping 
from  the  summer  shower. 

"Well,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  as  they  started 
homeward,  "aftah  this  I'll  remembah  that  no  mat- 
tah  how  hard  it  rains  the  sun  is  always  shining  some- 
where. It  nevah  hides  itself  from  us.  It  is  the 
valley  that  gets  behind  the  clouds,  just  as  if  it  was 
puttin'  a  handkerchief  ovah  its  face  when  it  wanted 
to  cry.  It's  a  comfort  to  know  that  the  sun  keeps 
shining,  on  right  on,  unchanged." 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  they  reached  the  little 
inn  again  in  Zug.  The  narrow  streets  were  wet, 
and  the  eaves  of  the  houses  still  dripping.  The 
landlord  came  out  to  meet  them  with  an  anxious 
face.  "Your  friend,  the  Herr  Major,"  he  said,  in 


THE    WONDER- BALDS  BEST  GIFT  89 

his  broken  English,  "  he  have  not  yet  return.  I  fear 
the  storm  for  him  was  bad." 

"  Where  did  he  go  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Sherman.  "  I 
did  not  know  that  he  intended  leaving  the  hotel  at 
all  to-day.  He  did  not  seem  well." 

"  Early  after  lunch,"  was  the  answer.  "  He  say 
he  will  up  the  mountain  go,  behind  the  town.  He 
say  that  now  he  vair  old  man,  maybe  not  again  will 
he  come  this  way,  and  one  more  time  already  before 
he  die,  he  long  to  gather  for  himself  the  Alpine 
rosen." 

"  Have  you  had  a  hard  storm  here  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Sherman. 

The  landlord  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  spread 
out  his  hands. 

"The  vair  worst,  madame.  Many  trees  blow 
down.  The  lightning  he  strike  a  house  next  to  the 
church  of  St.  Oswald,  and  a  goatherd  coming  down 
just  now  from  the  mountain  say  that  the  paths  are 
heaped  with  fallen  limbs,  and  slippery  with  mud. 
That  is  why  for  I  fear  the  Herr  Major  have  one 
accident  met." 

"  Maybe  he  has  stopped  at  some  peasant's  hut  for 
shelter,"  suggested  Mr.  Sherman,  seeing  the  distress 
in  Lloyd's  face.  "  He  knows  the  region  around  here 
thoroughly.  However,  if  he  is  not  here  by  the  time 


90  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

we  are  through  dinner,  we'll  organise   a   searching 
party." 

"  Hero  knows  that  something  is  wrong,"  said  the 
Little  Colonel,  as  they  went  into  the  dining-room 
a  few  minutes  later.  "See  how  uneasy  he  seems, 
walking  from  room  to  room.  He  is  trying  to  find 
his  mastah." 

The  longer  they  discussed  the  Major's  absence 
the  more  alarmed  they  became,  as  the  time  passed 
and  he  did  not  return. 

"You  know,"  suggested  Lloyd,  "that  with 
just  one  arm  he  couldn't  help  himself  much  if  he 
should  fall.  Maybe  he  has  slipped  down  some 
of  those  muddy  ravines  that  the  goatherd  told 
about.  Besides,  he  was  so  weak  and  tiahed  this 
mawnin.'  " 

Presently  her  face  brightened  with  a  sudden 
thought. 

"Oh,  Papa  Jack!  Let's  send  Hero.  I  know 
where  the  Majah  keeps  his  things,  the  flask  and  the 
bags,  and  the  dog  will  know,  as  soon  as  they  are 
fastened  on  him,  that  he  must  start  on  a  hunt.  And 
I  believe  I  can  say  the  words  in  German  so  that  he'll 
undahstand.  Only  yestahday  the  Majah  had  me 
repeating  them." 

"  That's  a  bright  idea,"  answered  her  father,  who 


^ 


«'  ALL   THE    GUESTS   IN    THE   INN    GATHERED    AROUND    THE 
DOOR   TO    SEE    HIM    START" 


THE    WONDER-BALLS  BEST  GIFT  91 

was  really  more  anxious  than  he  allowed  any  one  to 
see.  "At  least  it  can  do  no  harm  to  try." 

"  I  don't  want  any  dessert.  Mayn't  I  go  now  ? " 
Lloyd  asked.  As  she  hurried  up  the  stairs,  her 
heart  beating  with  excitement,  she  whispered  to 
herself,  "  Oh,  if  he  should  happen  to  be  lost  or  hurt, 
and  Hero  should  find  him,  it  would  be  the  loveliest 
thing  that  evah  happened." 

Hero  seemed  to  know,  from  the  moment  he  saw 
the  little  flask  marked  with  the  well-known  Red 
Cross,  what  was  expected  of  him.  All  the  guests  in 
the  inn  gathered  around  the  door  to  see  him  start  on 
his  uncertain  quest.  He  sniffed  excitedly  at  his 
master's  slipper,  which  Lloyd  held  out  to  him.  Then, 
as  she  motioned  toward  the  mountain,  and  gave  the 
command  in  German  that  the  Major  had  taught  her, 
he  bounded  out  into  the  gloaming,  with  several  quick 
short  barks,  and  darted  up  the  narrow  street  that 
led  to  the  mountain  road. 

Maybe  if  he  had  not  been  with  his  master  that 
way,  the  day  before,  he  might  not  have  known  what 
path  to  take.  The  heavy  rain  had  washed  away  all 
trails,  so  he  could  not  trace  him  by  the  sense  of 
smell ;  but  remembering  the  path  which  they  had 
travelled  together  the  previous  day,  he  instinctively 
started  up  that. 


Q2  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

The  group  in  the  doorway  of  the  inn  watched  him 
as  long  as  they  could  see  the  white  line  of  his  silvery 
ruff  gleam  through  the  dusk,  and  then,  going  back 
to  the  parlour,  sat  down  to  wait  for  his  return.  To 
most  of  them  it  was  a  matter  of  only  passing  inter- 
est. They  were  curious  to  know  how  much  the 
dog's  training  would  benefit  his  master,  under  the 
circumstances,  if  he  should  be  lost.  But  to  the  Little 
Colonel  it  seemed  a  matter  of  life  and  death.  She 
walked  nervously  up  and  down  the  hall  with  her 
hands  behind  her,  watching  the  clock  and  running 
to  the  door  to  peer  out  in  the  darkness,  every  time 
she  heard  a  sound. 

Some  one  played  a  noisy  two-step  on  the  loose- 
jointed  old  piano.  A  young  man  sang  a  serenade  in 
Italian,  and  two  girls,  after  much  coaxing,  consented 
to  join  in  a  high,  shrill  duet. 

Light-hearted  laughter  and  a  babel  of  conversation 
floated  from  the  parlour  to  the  hall,  where  Lloyd 
watched  and  waited.  Her  father  waited  with  her, 
but  he  had  a  newspaper.  Lloyd  wondered  how  he 
could  read  while  such  an  important  search  was  going 
on.  She  did  not  know  that  he  had  little  faith  in  the 
dog's  ability  to  find  his  master.  She,  however,  had 
not  a  single  doubt  of  it. 

The  time  seemed  endless.     Again  and  again  the 


THE    WONDER -BALL'S  BEST  GIFT  93 

little  cuckoo  in  the  hall  clock  came  out  to  call  the 
hour,  the  quarters  and  halves.  At  last  there  was  a 
patter  of  big  soft  paws  on  the  porch,  and  Lloyd 
springing  to  the  door,  met  Hero  on  the  threshold. 
Something  large  and  gray  was  in  his  mouth. 

"  Oh,  Papa  Jack  !  "  she  cried.  "  He's  found  him  ! 
Hero's  found  him !  This  is  the  Majah's  Alpine  hat. 
The  flask  is  gone  from  his  collah,  so  the  Majah  must 
have  needed  help.  And  see  how  wild  Hero  is  to 
start  back.  Oh,  Papa  Jack  !  Hurry,  please  ! " 

Her  call  brought  every  one  from  the  parlour  to  see 
the  dog,  who  was  springing  back  and  forth  with 
eager  barks  that  asked,  as  plainly  as  words,  for  some 
one  to  follow  him. 

"  Oh,  let  me  go  with  you !  Please,  Papa  Jack," 
begged  Lloyd. 

He  shook  his  head  decidedly.  "  No,  it  is  too  late 
and  dark,  and  no  telling  how  far  we  shall  have  to 
climb.  You  have  already  done  your  part,  my  dear, 
in  sending  the  dog.  If  the  Major  is  really  in  need 
of  help,  he  will  have  you  to  thank  for  his  rescue." 

The  landlord  called  for  lanterns.  Several  of  the 
guests  seized  their  hats  and  alpenstocks,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  little  relief  party  was  hurrying 
along  the  street  after  their  trusty  guide,  with  Mr. 
Sherman  in  the  lead.  He  had  caught  up  a  ham- 


94  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

mock  as  he  started.  "  We  may  need  some  kind  of 
a  stretcher,"  he  said,  slinging  it  over  his  shoulder. 

They  trudged  on  in  silence,  wondering  what  they 
would  find  at  the  end  of  their  journey.  The  moun- 
tain path  was  strewn  with  limbs  broken  off  by  the 
storm.  Although  the  moon  came  up  presently  and 
added  its  faint  light  to  the  yellow  rays  of  the  lan- 
terns, they  had  to  pick  their  steps  slowly,  often 
stumbling. 

Hero,  bounding  on  ahead,  paused  to  look  back 
now  and  then,  with  impatient  barks.  They  had 
climbed  more  than  an  hour,  when  he  suddenly  shot 
ahead  into  the  darkest  part  of  the  woods  and  gave 
voice  so  loudly  that  they  knew  that  they  had  reached 
the  end  of  their  search,  and  pushed  forward  anx- 
iously. 

The  moonlight  could  not  reach  this  spot  among 
the  trees,  so  densely  shaded,  but  the  lanterns 
showed  them  the  old  man  a  short  distance  from  the 
path.  He  was  pinned  to  the  wet  earth  by  a  limb 
that  had  fallen  partly  across  him.  Fortunately,  the 
storm  had  been  unable  to  twist  it  entirely  from  the 
tree.  Only  the  outer  end  of  the  limb  had  struck 
him,  but  the  tangle  of  leafy  boughs  above  him  was 
too  thick  to  creep  through.  His  clothes  were 
drenched,  and  on  the  ground  beside  him,  beaten 


THE  WONDER- BALDS  BEST  GIFT      95 

flat  by  the  storm,  lay  the  bunch  of  Alpine  roses  he 
had  climbed  so  far  to  find. 

He  was  conscious  when  the  men  reached  him. 
The  brandy  in  the  flask  had  revived  him  and  as  they 
drew  him  out  from  under  the  branches  and  stretched 
the  hammock  over  some  poles  for  a  litter,  he  told 
them  what  had  happened.  He  had  been  some  dis- 
tance farther  up  the  mountain,  and  had  stopped  at 
a  peasant's  hut  for  some  goat's  milk.  He  rested 
there  a  long  time,  never  noticing  in  the  dense  shade 
of  the  woods  that  a  storm  was  gathering. 

It  came  upon  him  suddenly.  His  head  was  hurt, 
and  his  back.  He  could  not  tell  how  badly.  He  had 
lain  so  long  on  the  wet  ground  that  he  was  numb 
with  cold,  but  thought  he  would  be  better  when  he 
was  once  more  resting  warm  and  dry  at  the  inn. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  Hero  and  feebly 
patted  him,  a  faint  smile  crossing  his  face.  "  Thou 
best  of  friends,"  he  whispered.  "Thou  —  "  Then 
he  stopped,  closing  his  eyes  with  a  groan.  They  were 
lifting  him  on  the  stretcher,  and  the  pain  caused  by 
the  movement  made  him  faint. 

It  was  a  slow  journey  down  the  slippery  mountain 
path.  The  men  who  carried  him  had  to  pick  their 
steps  carefully.  At  the  inn  the  little  cuckoo  came 
out  of  the  clock  in  the  hall  and  called  eleven,  half 


96  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

past,  and  midnight,  before  the  even  tramp,  tramp  of 
approaching  feet  made  the  Little  Colonel  run  to  the 
door  for  the  last  time. 

"  They're  comin',  mothah,"  she  whispered,  with  a 
frightened  face,  and  then  ran  back  to  hide  her  eyes 
while  the  men  passed  up  the  steps  with  their  uncon- 
scious burden.  She  thought  the  Major  was  dead, 
he  lay  so  white  and  still.  But  he  had  only  fainted 
again  on  the  way,  and  soon  revived  enough  to 
answer  the  doctor's  questions,  and  send  word  to  the 
Little  Colonel  that  she  and  Hero  had  saved  his  life. 
"  Do  you  heah  that  ? "  she  asked  of  Hero,  when 
they  told  her  what  he  had  said.  "  The  doctah  said 
that  if  the  Majah  had  lain  out  on  that  cold,  wet 
ground  till  mawnin',  without  any  attention,  it  surely 
would  have  killed  him.  I'm  proud  of  you,  Hero. 
I'm  goin'  to  get  Papa  Jack  to  write  a  piece  about 
you  and  send  it  to  the  Courier-Journal.  How  would 
you  like  to  have  yo'  name  come  out  in  a  big  Ameri- 
can newspapah  ? " 

Several  lonely  days  followed  for  the  Little  Colonel. 
Either  her  father  or  mother  was  constantly  with  the 
Major,  and  sometimes  both.  They  were  waiting  for 
his  niece  to  come  from  Zurich  and  take  him  back 
with  her  to  a  hospital  where  he  could  have  better 
care  than  in  the  little  inn  in  Zug. 


THE    WONDER -BALL'S  BEST  GIFT  Q/ 

It  greatly  worried  the  old  man  that  he  should  be 
the  cause  of  disarranging  their  plans  and  delaying 
their  journey.  He  urged  them  to  go  on  and  leave 
him,  but  they  would  not  consent.  Sometimes  the 
Little  Colonel  slipped  into  the  room  with  a  bunch 
of  Alpine  roses  or  a  cluster  of  edelweiss  that  she 
had  bought  from  some  peasant.  Sometimes  she  sat 
beside  him  for  a  few  minutes,  but  most  of  her  time 
was  spent  with  Hero,  wandering  up  and  down  be- 
side the  lake,  feeding  the  swans  or  watching  the 
little  steamboats  come  and  go.  She  had  forgotten 
her  fear  of  the  bottom  dropping  out  of  the  town. 

One  evening,  just  at  sunset,  the  Major  sent  for 
her.  "  I  go  to  Zurich  in  the  morning,"  he  said, 
holding  out  his  hand  as  she  came  into  the  room. 
"I  wanted  to  say  good-bye  while  I  have  the  time 
and  strength.  We  expect  to  leave  very  early  to- 
morrow, probably  before  you  are  awake." 

His  couch  was  drawn  up  by  the  window,  through 
which  the  shimmering  lake  shone  in  the  sunset  like 
rosy  mother-of-pearl.  Far  up  the  mountain  sounded 
the  faint  tinkling  of  goat-bells,  and  the  clear,  sweet 
yodelling  of  a  peasant,  on  his  homeward  way.  At 
intervals,  the  deep  tolling  of  the  bell  of  St.  Oswald 
floated  out  across  the  water. 

"When   the   snow  falls,"   he   said,  after   a  long 


98  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

pause,  "  I  shall  be  far  away  from  here.  They  tell 
me  that  at  the  hospital  where  I  am  going,  I  shall 
find  a  cure.  But  I  know."  He  pointed  to  an  hour- 
glass on  the  table  beside  him.  "  See  !  the  sand  has 
nearly  run  its  course.  The  hour  will  soon  be  done. 
It  is  so  with  me.  I  have  felt  it  for  a  long  time." 

Lloyd  looked  up,  startled.     He  went  on  slowly. 

"  I  cannot  take  Hero  with  me  to  the  hospital, 
so  I  shall  leave  him  behind  with  some  one  who 
will  care  for  him  and  love  him,  perhaps  even  better 
than  I  have  done."  He  held  out  his  hand  to  the 
dog. 

"  Come,  Hero,  my  dear  old  comrade,  come  bid  thy 
master  farewell."  Fumbling  under  his  pillow  as  he 
spoke,  he  took  out  a  small  leather  case,  and,  opening 
it,  held  up  a  medal.  It  was  the  medal  that  the 
Emperor  had  given  him  for  bravery  on  the  field  of 
Strasburg. 

"  It  is  my  one  treasure !  "  murmured  the  old  sol- 
dier, turning  it  fondly,  as  it  lay  in  his  palm.  "I 
have  no .family  to  whom  I  can  leave  it  as  an  heirloom, 
but  thou  hast  twice  earned  the  right  to  wear  it.  I 
have  no  fear  but  that  thou  wilt  always  be  true  to  the 
Red  Cross  and  thy  name  of  Hero,  so  thou  shalt  wear 
the  Emperor's  medal  to  thy  grave." 

He  fastened  the  medal  to  Hero's  collar,  then,  with 


THE    WONDER -BALL'S  BEST  GIFT  99 

the  dog's  great  head  pressed  fondly  against  him,  he 
began  talking  to  him  in  the  speech  of  the  Fatherland. 
Lloyd  could  not  understand,  but  the  sight  of  the 
gray-haired  old  soldier  taking  his  last  leave  of  his 
faithful  friend  brought  the  tears  to  her  eyes. 

She  tried  to  describe  the  scene  to  her  mother, 
afterward. 

"  Oh,  it  was  so  pitiful !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It 
neahly  broke  my  heart.  Then  he  called  me  to  him 
and  said  that  because  I  was  like  his  little  Christine, 
he  knew  that  I  would  be  good  to  Hero,  and  he  asked 
me  to  take  him  back  to  America  with  me.  I  prom- 
ised that  I  would.  Then  he  put  Hero's  paw  in  my 
hand,  and  said,  '  Hero,  I  give  thee  to  thy  little  mis- 
tress. Protect  and  guard  her  always,  as  she  will  love 
and  care  for  thee.'  It  was  awfully  solemn,  almost 
like  some  kind  of  blessing. 

"  Then  he  lay  back  on  the  pillows  as  if  he  was  too 
tiahed  to  say  anothah  word.  I  tried  to  thank  him, 
but  I  was  so  surprised  and  glad  that  Hero  was  mine, 
and  yet  so  sorry  to  say  good-bye  to  the  Majah,  that 
the  right  words  wouldn't  come.  I  just  began  to  cry 
again.  But  I  am  suah  the  Majah  undahstood.  He 
patted  my  hand  and  smoothed  my  hair  and  said 
things  in  German  that  sounded  as  if  he  was  tryin'  to 
comfort  me.  Aftah  awhile  I  remembahed  that  we 


100  THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HERO 

had  been  there  a  long  time,  and  ought  to  go,  so  I 
kissed  him  good-bye,  and  Hero  and  I  went  out, 
leavin'  the  doah  open  as  he  told  us.  He  watched  us 
all  the  way  down  the  hall.  When  I  turned  at  the 
stairway  to  look  back,  he  was  still  watchin'.  He 
smiled  and  waved  his  hand,  but  the  way  he  smiled 
made  me  feel  worse  than  evah,  it  was  so  sad." 

Mr.  Sherman  went  with  the  Major  next  morning, 
when  he  was  taken  to  Zurich.  Lloyd  was  asleep 
when  they  left  the  inn,  so  the  last  remembrance  she 
had  of  the  Major  was  the  way  he  looked  as  he  lay 
on  his  couch  in  the  sunset,  smiling,  and  waving  his 
hand  to  her.  When  Christmastide  came,  it  was  as 
he  said.  He  was  with  his  little  Christine. 

"  I  can  hardly  keep  from  crying  whenever  I  think 
of  him,"  Lloyd  wrote  to  Betty.  "  It  was  so  pitiful, 
his  giving  up  everything  in  the  world  that  he  cared 
for,  and  going  off  to  the  hospital  to  wait  there  alone 
for  his  hour-glass  to  run  out.  Hero  seems  to  miss 
him,  but  I  think  he  understands  that  he  belongs  to 
me  now.  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  he  is  really 
mine,  and  that  I  may  take  him  back  to  America  with 
me.  He  is  the  best  thing  that  the  wonder-ball  has 
given  me,  or  ever  can  give  me. 

"  To-morrow  we  start  to  Lucerne  to  see  the  Lion 
in  the  rocks,  and  from  there  we  go  to  Paris.  Only 


THE  WONDER -BALL'S  BEST  GIFT     IOI 

a  little  while  now,  and  we  shall  all  be  together.  I 
can  hardly  wait  for  you  to  see  my  lovely  St.  Bernard 
with  his  Red  Cross  of  Geneva,  and  the  Emperor's 
medal  that  he  has  earned  the  right  to  wear." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN    TOURS 

A  DOZEN  times  between  Paris  and  Tours  the 
Little  Colonel  turned  from  the  car  window  to  smile 
at  her  mother,  and  say  with  a  wriggle  of  impatience, 
"  Oh,  I  can't  wait  to  get  there !  Won't  Betty  and 
Eugenia  be  surprised  to  see  us  two  whole  days 
earlier  than  they  expected  !  " 

"  But  you  mustn't  count  too  much  on  seeing  them 
at  the  hotel  the  minute  we  arrive,"  her  mother  cau- 
tioned her.  "  You  know  Cousin  Carl  wrote  that 
they  were  making  excursions  every  day  to  the  old 
chateaux  near  there,  and  I  think  it  quite  probable 
they  will  be  away.  So  don't  set  your  heart  on  see- 
ing them  before  to-morrow  night.  Some  of  those 
trips  take  two  days." 

Lloyd  turned  to  the  window  again  and  tried  to 
busy  herself  with  the  scenes  flying  past :  the  peas- 
ant women  with  handkerchiefs  over  their  heads,  and 
the  men  in  blue  cotton  blouses  and  wooden  shoes  at 
work  in  the  fields ;  the  lime-trees  and  the  vineyards, 


IN   TOURS  IO3 

the  milk-carts  that  dogs  helped  to  draw.  It  was  all 
as  Joyce  had  described  it  to  her,  and  she  pinched 
herself  to  make  sure  that  she  was  awake,  and  ac- 
tually in  France,  speeding  along  toward  the  Gate  of 
the  Giant  Scissors,  and  all  the  delightful  foreign  ex- 
perience that  Joyce  had  talked  about.  She  had 
dreamed  many  day-dreams  about  this  journey,  but 
the  thought  that  was  giving  her  most  pleasure  now 
was  not  that  these  dreams  were  at  last  coming  true, 
but  that  in  a  very  short  time  she  would  be  face  to 
face  with  Betty  and  Eugenia. 

It  was  noon  when  they  reached  Tours,  and  went 
rattling  up  to  the  Hotel  Bordeaux  in  the  big  ominbus. 
At  first  Lloyd  was  disposed  to  find  fault  with  the 
quaint,  old-fashioned  hotel  which  Cousin  Carl  had 
chosen  as  their  meeting-place.  It  had  no  conve- 
niences like  the  modern  ones  to  which  she  had  been 
accustomed.  There  was  not  even  an  elevator  in  it. 
She  looked  in  dismay  at  the  steep,  spiral  stairway, 
winding  around  and  around  in  the  end  of  the  hall, 
like  the  steps  in  the  tower  of  a  lighthouse.  On  a 
side  table  in  the  hall,  several  long  rows  of  candles, 
with  snuffers,  suggested  the  kind  of  light  they  would 
have  in  their  bedrooms. 

But  everything  was  spotlessly  clean,  and  the  land- 
lady and  her  daughter  came  out  to  meet  them  with 


IO4  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

an  air  of  giving  them  a  welcome  home,  which  ex- 
tended even  to  the  dog.  After  their  hospitable 
reception  of  Hero,  Lloyd  had  no  more  fault  to  find. 
She  knew  that  at  no  modern  hotel  would  he  have 
been  treated  so  considerately  and  given  the  liberty 
of  the  house.  Since  he  was  not  banished  to  the 
courtyard  or  turned  over  to  a  porter's  care,  she  was 
willing  to  climb  a  dozen  spiral  stairways,  or  grope 
her  way  through  the  semi-darkness  of  a  candle- 
lighted  bedroom  every  night  while  they  were  in 
France,  for  the  sake  of  having  Hero  free  to  come 
and  go  as  he  pleased. 

"  Come  on  !  "  she  cried,  gaily,  to  her  mother,  as  a 
porter  with  a  trunk  on  his  shoulder  led  the  way  up 
the  spiral  stairs.  "  It  makes  me  think  of  the  old 
song  you  used  to  sing  me  about  the  spidah  and  the 
fly,  'The  way  into  my  pahlah  is  up  a  winding  stair.' 
Nobody  but  a  circus  acrobat  could  run  up  the  whole 
flight  without  getting  dizzy.  It's  a  good  thing  we 
are  only  goin'  to  the  next  floah." 

She  ran  around  several  circles  of  steps,  and  then 
paused  to  look  back  at  her  mother,  who  was  waiting 
for  Mr.  Sherman's  helping  arm.  "The  elephant 
now  goes  round  and  round  when  the  band  begins  to 
play,"  quoted  Lloyd,  looking  down  on  them,  her 
face  dimpling  with  laughter. 


IN  TOURS  IO5 

"  Look  out ! "  piped  a  shrill  voice  far  above  her. 
"  I'm  coming ! "  Lloyd  gave  a  hasty  glance  upward 
to  the  top  floor,  and  drew  back  against  the  wall. 
For  down  the  banister,  with  the  speed  of  a  run- 
away engine,  came  sliding  a  small  bare-legged  boy. 
Around  and  around  the  dizzy  spiral  he  went,  hugging 
the  railing  closely,  and  bringing  up  with  a  tremen- 
dous bump  against  the  newel  post  at  the  bottom. 

"  Hullo  !  "  he  said,  coolly,  looking  up  at  the  Little 
Colonel. 

"It's  Henny!"  she  exclaimed,  in  amazement. 
"  Henderson  Sattawhite  !  Of  all  people  !  How  did 
you  get  heah  ? " 

But  the  boy  had  no  time  to  waste  in  talking.  He 
stuck  his  thumb  in  his  mouth,  looked  at  her  an  in- 
stant, and  then,  climbing  down  from  the  banister, 
started  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  as  fast  as  his  short 
legs  could  carry  him,  for  another  downward  spin. 

Lloyd  waited  for  her  mother  to  come  up  to  the 
step  on  which  she  stood,  and  then  said,  with  a  look 
of  concern,  "  Do  you  suppose  they  are  all  heah, 
'  Fido '  an'  all  of  them  ?  And  that  Howl  will  follow 
me  around  as  he  did  on  shipboard,  beggin'  for 
stories  ?  It  will  spoil  all  my  fun  with  the  girls  if  he 
does." 

"  '  Never  trouble  trouble  till  trouble  troubles  you,'  " 


IC>6  THE  LITTLE   COLO NE US  HERO 

said  her  father,  playfully  pinching  her  cheek.  "  You'll 
find  it  easier  to  escape  persecution  on  land  than  or 
shipboard.  Henny  didn't  seem  at  all  anxious  to  renew 
his  acquaintance  with  you.  He  evidently  finds  sliding 
down  bannisters  more  to  his  taste.  Maybe  Howel1 
has  found  something  equally  interesting." 

"  I  certainly  hope  so,"  said  Lloyd,  running  on  to 
their  rooms  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  The  casement 
window  in  her  room  looked  out  over  a  broad  boule- 
vard, down  the  middle  of  which  went  a  double  row 
of  trees,  shading  a  strip  of  grass,  where  benches 
were  set  at  intervals. 

Lloyd  leaned  out  to  look  and  listen.  A  company 
of  soldiers  was  marching  up  the  street  in  the  gay 
red  and  blue  of  their  French  uniforms,  to  the  music 
of  a  band.  A  group  of  girls  from  a  convent  school 
passed  by.  Then  some  nuns.  She  stood  there  a 
long  time,  finding  the  panorama  that  passed  her 
window  so  interesting  that  she  forgot  how  time  was 
passing,  until  her  mother  called  to  her  that  they 
were  going  down  to  lunch. 

"  I  like  it  heah,  evah  so  much,"  she  announced,  as. 
she  followed  her  father  and  mother  into  the  dining- 
room.  "  Did  you  ask  in  the  office,  Papa  Jack,  when 
the  girls  would  be  back  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they  have  gone  to  Amboise.     They  will  be 


IN  TOURS  lO/ 

home  before  dark.  I  am  sorry  you  missed  taking 
that  trip  with  them,  Lloyd.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  chateaux  around  here  in  my  opinion. 
Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  went  there  a  bride.  There 
she  was  forced  to  watch  the  Hugenots  being  thrown 
over  into  the  river.  Leonardo  da  Vinci  is  buried 
there,  and  Charles  VIII.  was  killed  there  by  bump- 
ing his  head  against  a  low  doorway." 

"  Oh,  deah  !  "  sighed  the  Little  Colonel,  "  my  head 
is  all  in  a  tangle.  There's  so  many  spots  to  re- 
membah.  Every  time  you  turn  around  you  bump 
into  something  you  ought  to  remembah  because 
some  great  man  was  bawn  there,  or  died  there,  or 
did  something  wondahful  there.  It  would  be  lots 
easiah  for  travellers  in  Europe  if  there  wasn't  so 
many  monuments  to  smaht  people.  Who  must  I 
remembah  in  Tours  ? " 

"Balzac,"  said  her  father,  laughing.  "The  great 
French  novelist.  But  that  will  not  be  hard.  There 
is  a  statue  of  him  on  one  of  the  principal  streets, 
and  after  you  have  passed  him  every  day  for  a  week, 
you  will  think  of  him  as  an  old  acquaintance.  Then 
this  is  the  scene  of  one  of  Scott's  novels  —  '  Quentin 
Durward.'  And  the  good  St.  Martin  lived  here. 
There  is  a  church  to  his  memory.  He  is  the  patron 
saint  of  the  place.  At  the  chateaux  you  will  get  into 


IO8  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

a  tangle  of  history,  for  their  chief  interest  is  their 
associations  with  the  old  court  life." 

"  Where  is  Hero  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Sherman,  sud- 
denly changing  the  conversation. 

"  He's  in  the  pahlah,  stretched  out  on  a  rug," 
answered  Lloyd.  "  It's  cool  and  quiet  in  there  with 
the  blinds  down.  The  landlady's  daughtah  said  no 
one  went  in  there  often,  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
so  nobody  would  disturb  him,  and  he'd  not  disturb 
anybody.  He's  all  tiahed  out,  comin'  so  far  on 
the  cars.  May  I  go  walkin'  with  him  aftah  awhile, 
mothah  ? " 

Mrs.  Sherman  looked  at  her  husband,  question- 
ingly.  "Oh,  it's  perfectly  safe,"  he  answered. 
"  She  could  go  alone  here  as  well  as  in  Lloydsboro 
Valley,  and  with  Hero  she  could  have  nothing  to 
fear." 

"  I  want  you  to  rest  awhile  first,"  said  Mrs.  Sher- 
man. "  At  four  o'clock  you  may  go." 

Leaving  Hero  comfortably  stretched  out  asleep  in 
the  parlour,  Lloyd  went  back  to  her  room.  She  lay 
down  for  a  few  minutes  across  the  bed  and  closed 
her  eyes.  But  she  could  not  sleep  with  so  many 
interesting  sights  in  the  street  below.  Presently 
she  tiptoed  to  the  window,  and  sat  looking  out  until 
she  heard  her  mother  moving  around  in  the  next 


IN  TOURS  IO9 

room.  She  knew  then  that  she  had  had  her  nap 
and  was  unpacking  the  trunks. 

"  Mothah,"  called  Lloyd,  "  I  want  to  put  on  my 
prettiest  white  embroidered  dress  and  my  rosebud 
sash,  because  I'll  meet  Cousin  Carl  and  the  girls 
to-night." 

"That  is  just  what  I  have  unpacked  for  you," 
said  her  mother.  "Come  in  and  I'll  help  you 
dress." 

Half  an  hour  later  it  was  a  very  fresh  and  dainty 
picture  that  smiled  back  at  Lloyd  from  the  mirror 
of  her  dressing-table.  She  shook  out  her  crisp 
white  skirts,  gave  the  rosebud  sash  an  admiring  pat, 
and  turned  her  head  for  another  view  of  the  big 
leghorn  hat  with  its  stylish  rosettes  of  white  chiffon. 
Then  she  started  down  the  hall  toward  the  spiral 
stairway.  It  was  a  narrow  hall  with  several  cross 
passages,  and  at  one  of  them  she  paused,  won- 
dering if  it  did  not  lead  to  Eugenia's  and  Betty's 
rooms. 

To  her  speechless  surprise,  a  door  popped  open 
and  a  cupful  of  water  was  dashed  full  in  her  face. 
Spluttering  and  angry,  she  drew  back  in  time  to 
avoid  another  cupful,  which  came  flying  through  the 
transom  above  the  same  door.  Retreating  still 
farther  down  the  passage,  and  wiping  her  face  as  she 


IIO  THE  LITTLE    CO  LONE  US  HERO 

went,  she  kept  her  gaze  on  the  door,  walking  back- 
ward in  order  to  do  so. 

Another  cupful  came  splashing  out  into  the  hall 
through  the  transom.  A  boy,  tiptoeing  up  to  the 
door,  dodged  back  so  quickly  that  not  a  drop 
touched  him;  then  with  a  long  squirt  gun  that  he 
carried,  he  knelt  before  the  keyhole  and  sent  a 
stream  of  water  squirting  through  it.  It  was 
Howell. 

There  was  a  scream  from  the  bedroom,  Fidelia's 
voice.  "  Stop  that,  you  hateful  boy !  I'll  tell 
mamma !  You've  nearly  put  my  eye  out." 

A  muffled  giggle  and  a  scamper  of  feet  down  the 
hall  was  the  only  answer.  Fidelia  threw  open  the 
door  and  looked  out,  a  water  pitcher  in  her  hand. 
She  stopped  in  amazement  at  sight  of  the  Little 
Colonel,  who  was  waiting  for  a  chance  to  dodge 
down  the  hall  past  the  dangerous  door,  into  the  main 
passage. 

"  For  mercy  sakes  !  "  exclaimed  Fidelia.  "  When 
didycu  come  ? " 

"In  time  fo'  yoah  watah  fight,"  answered  the 
indignant  Little  Colonel,  shaking  out  her  wet  hand- 
kerchief. She  was  thoroughly  provoked,  for  the 
front  of  her  fresh  white  dress  was  drenched,  and 
the  dainty  rosebud  sash  streaked  with  water. 


HE    KNELT   BEFORE    THE    KEYHOLE    AND   SENT    A    STREAM 
OF    WATER    SQUIRTING   THROUGH    IT" 


IN  TOURS  III 

Fidelia  laughed.  "You  don't  mean  to  say  that 
you  caught  the  ducking  I  meant  for  Howl ! "  she 
exclaimed.  "  Well,  if  that  isn't  a  joke !  It's  the 
funniest  thing  I  ever  heard  of  !  "  Putting  the  pitcher 
on  the  floor  and  clasping  her  hands  to  her  sides,  she 
laughed  until  she  had  to  lean  against  the  wall. 

"  It's  moah  bad  mannahs  than  a  joke  !  "  retorted 
Lloyd,  angered  more  by  the  laugh  than  she  had 
been  by  the  wetting.  "  A  girl  as  old  as  you  oughtn't 
to  go  travellin'  till  you  know  how  to  behave  yo'self 
in  a  hotel.  I  don't  wondah  that  wherevah  you  go 
people  say, '  Oh,  those  dreadful  American  children ! '  " 

"It  isn't  so!  They  don't  say  it!"  snapped  Fi- 
delia. "  I've  got  just  as  good  manners  as  you  have, 
anyhow,  and  I'll  throw  this  whole  pitcher  of  water 
on  you  if  you  say  another  word."  She  caught  it 
up  threateningly. 

"You  just  dare!"  cried  the  Little  Colonel,  her 
eyes  flashing  and  her  cheeks  flushing.  Not  for  years 
had  she  been  so  angry.  She  wanted  to  scream  and 
pull  Fidelia's  hair  with  savage  fingers.  She  wanted 
to  bump  her  head  against  the  wall,  again  and  again. 
But  with  an  effort  so  great  that  it  made  her  trem- 
ble, she  controlled  herself,  and  stood  looking  steadily 
at  Fidelia  without  a  word. 

"  I  mustn't  speak,"  she  kept  saying  desperately  to 


112  THE  LITTLE    CO  LONE  US  HERO 

herself.  "  I  mustn't  speak,  or  my  tempah  will  get 
away  with  me.  I  might  claw  her  eyes  out.  I 
wish  I  could  !  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  !  "  Her  teeth 
were  set  tightly  together,  and  her  hands  were 
clenched. 

Fidelia  met  her  angry  gaze  unflinchingly  for  an 
instant,  and  then,  with  a  contemptuous  "pooh!" 
raised  the  pitcher  and  gave  it  a  lurch  forward.  It 
was  so  heavy  that  it  turned  in  her  hands,  and  instead 
of  drenching  Lloyd,  its  contents  deluged  Fanchette, 
who  suddenly  came  out  of  the  door  beside  Lloyd, 
with  the  thousand  dollar  poodle  in  her  arms. 

Poor  Beauty  gave  an  injured  yelp,  and  Fidelia 
drew  back  and  slammed  the  door,  locking  it  hastily. 
She  knew  that  the  maid  would  hurry  to  her  mistress 
while  he  was  still  shivering,  and  that  there  would  be 
an  uncomfortable  account  to  settle  by  and  by. 

Howell,  who  had  crept  up  to  watch  the  fuss, 
doubled  himself  with  laughter.  It  amused  him  even 
more  than  it  had  Fidelia  that  he  had  escaped  the 
water,  and  Lloyd  had  caught  it  in  his  stead.  Lloyd 
swept  past  him  without  a  word,  and  ran  to  her 
mother's  room,  so  angry  that  she  could  not  keep  the 
tears  back  while  telling  her  grievance. 

"  See  what  that  horrid  Sattawhite  girl  has  done  !  " 
she  cried,  holding  out  her  limp  wet  skirts,  and 


IN   TOURS  113 

streaked  sash,  with  an  expression  of  disgust.  I  just 
despise  her ! " 

"It  was  an  accident,  was  it  not?"  asked  Mrs. 
Sherman. 

"  Oh,  she  didn't  know  she  was  throwing  the  watah 
on  me,  when  she  pitched  it  out,  but  she  was  glad 
that  it  happened  to  hit  me.  She  didn't  even  say 
'  excuse  me,'  let  alone  say  that  she  was  sorry.  And 
she  laughed  and  held  on  to  her  sides,  and  laughed 
again,  and  said,  '  oh,  what  a  joke,'  and  that  it  was  the 
funniest  thing  that  she  evah  saw.  I  think  her 
mothah  ought  to  know  what  bad  mannahs  she's  got. 
Somebody  ought  to  tell  her.  I  told  Fidelia  what  I 
thought  of  her,  and  I'll  nevah  speak  to  her  again ! 
So  there ! " 

Mrs.  Sherman  listened  sympathetically  to  her  tale 
of  woe,  but  as  she  unbuttoned  the  wet  dress,  and 
Lloyd  still  stormed  on,  she  sighed  as  if  to  herself, 
«  Poor  Fidelia !  " 

"  Why,  mothah,"  said  Lloyd,  in  an  aggrieved  tone, 
"  I  didn't  s'pose  that  you'd  take  her  part  against  me." 

"Stop  and  think  a  minute,  little  daughter,"  said 
Mrs.  Sherman,  opening  her  trunk  to  take  out  another 
white  dress.  Lloyd  was  working  herself  up  into  a 
white  heat.  "Put  yourself  in  Fidelia's  place,  and 
think  how  she  has  always  been  left  to^the  care  of 


114  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

servants,  or  of  a  governess  who  neglected  her.  Think 
how  much  help  you  have  had  in  trying  to  control 
your  temper,  and  how  little  you  have  had  to  provoke 
it.  Suppose  you  had  Howell  and  Henderson  always 
tagging  after  you  to  tease  and  annoy  you,  and  that  I 
had  always  been  too  busy  with  my  own  affairs  to 
take  any  interest  in  you,  except  to  punish  you  when 
I  was  exasperated  by  the  tales  that  you  told  of  each 
other.  Wouldn't  that  have  made  a  difference  in 
your  manners  ? " 

"  Y-yes,"  acknowledged  Lloyd,  slowly.  Then,  after 
a  moment's  silence,  she  broke  out  again.  "  I  might 
have  forgiven  her  if  only  she  hadn't  laughed  at  me. 
Whenevah  I  think  of  that  I  want  to  shake  her.  If 
I  live  to  be  a  hundred  yeahs  old,  I  can  nevah  think 
of  Fidelia  Sattawhite,  without  remembahm'  the  mean 
little  way  she  laughed  !  " 

"  What  kind  of  a  memory  are  you  leaving  behind 
you  ? "  suggested  Mrs.  Sherman,  touching  the  little 
ring  on  Lloyd's  finger  that  had  been  her  talisman 
since  the  house  party.  "  Will  it  be  a  Road  of  the 
Loving  Heart  ? " 

Lloyd  hesitated.  "  No,"  she  acknowledged,  frankly. 
"  Of  co'se  when  I  stop  to  think,  I  do  want  to  leave 
that  kind  of  a  memory  for  everybody.  I'd  hate  to 
think  that  when  I  died,  there'd  be  even  one  person 


IN  TOURS  11$ 

who  had  cause  to  say  ugly  things  about  me,  even 
Fidelia.  But  just  now,  mothah,  honestly  when  I 
remembah  how  she  laughed,  I  feel  that  I  must  be  as 
mean  to  her  as  she  is  to  me.  I  can't  help  it." 

Mrs.  Sherman  made  no  answer,  but  turned  to  her 
own  dressing,  and  presently  Lloyd  kissed  her,  and 
went  slowly  down-stairs  to  find  Hero.  He  was  no 
longer  dreaming  in  peace.  Two  restless  boys  cooped 
up  in  the  narrow  limits  of  the  hotel,  and  burning 
with  a  desire  to  be  amused,  had  discovered  him 
through  the  crack  of  the  door,  and  immediately 
pounced  upon  him. 

"Aw,  ain't  he  nice!"  exclaimed  Henny,  stroking 
the  shaggy  back  with  a  dirty  little  hand.  Howl  felt 
in  his  blouse,  hoping  to  find  some  crumb  left  of  the 
stock  of  provisions  stored  away  at  lunch-time. 

"  Feel  there,  Henny,"  he  commanded,  backing  up 
to  his  little  brother,  and  humping  his  shoulders. 
"Ain't  that  a  cooky  slipped  around  to  the  back  of 
my  blouse  ?  Put  your  hand  up  and  feel." 

Henny  obligingly  explored  the  back  of  his  brother's 
blouse,  and  fished  out  the  last  cooky,  which  they  fed 
to  Hero. 

"  Wisht  we  had  some  more,"  said  Howell,  as  the 
cake  disappeared.  "Henny,  you  go  up  and  see  if 
you  can't  hook  some  of  Beauty's  biscuit." 


Il6  THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HERO 

"  Naw !  I  don't  want  to.  I  want  to  play  with  the 
dog,"  answered  Henny.  "  He's  big  enough  to  ride 
on.  Stand  up,  old  fellow,  and  let  me  get  on  your 
back." 

"I'll  tell  you  a  scheme,"  cried  Howl;  "you  run 
up-stairs  and  get  one  of  mamma's  shawl-straps,  and 
we'll  fix  a  harness  for  him,  and  make  him  ride  us 
around  the  room." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Henny,  trotting  out  into  the 
hall.  At  the  door  he  met  Lloyd.  When  she  went 
into  the  room  she  found  Howell  lying  on  the  floor, 
burrowing  his  head  into  the  dog's  side  for  a  pillow. 
Hero  did  not  like  it,  and,  shaking  himself  free, 
walked  across  the  room  and  lay  down  in  another 
place. 

Howl  promptly  followed,  and  pillowed  his  head  on 
him  again.  Hero  looked  around  with  an  appealing 
expression  in  his  big,  patient  eyes,  once  more  got  up, 
crossed  the  room,  and  lay  down  in  a  corner.  Howell 
followed  him  like  a  teasing  mosquito. 

"Don't  bothah  him,  Howl,"  said  Lloyd.  "Don't 
you  see  that  he  doesn't  like  it  ? " 

"  But  he  makes  such  a  nice,  soft  pillow,"  said  the 
boy,  once  more  burrowing  his  hard  little  head  into 
Hero's  ribs. 

"He  might   snap  at   you  if  you  tease  him  too 


IN  TOURS  Ii; 

much.  I  nevah  saw  him  do  it  to  any  one,  but 
nobody  has  evah  teased  him  since  he  belonged  to 
me." 

"  Is  he  your  dog  ? "  asked  Howl,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Lloyd,  proudly.  "  He  saved  my 
life  one  time,  and  his  mastah's  anothah.  And  that 
medal  on  his  collah  was  one  the  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many gave  his  mastah  fo'  bravery,  and  the  Majah 
gave  it  to  him  because  he  said  that  Hero  had  twice 
earned  the  right  to  wear  it." 

"  Tell  about  it,"  demanded  Howl,  scenting  a  story. 
"  How  did  he  —  "  His  question  was  stopped  in  the 
middle  by  Hero,  who,  determined  to  be  no  longer 
used  as  a  pillow,  stood  up  and  gave  himself  a  mighty 
shake.  Walking  over  to  the  sofa  piled  with  cush- 
ions, he  took  one  in  his  mouth,  and  carrying  it  back 
to  Howl  dropped  it  at  his  feet  as  if  to  say,  "  There ! 
Use  that !  I  am  no  sofa  pillow."  That  done  he 
stretched  himself  out  again  in  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  room,  and  laid  his  head  on  his  paws  with  a  sigh 
of  relief. 

"  Oh  !  Oh  !  "  cried  the  Little  Colonel.  "  Did  you 
evah  see  anything  so  sma'ht  as  that  in  all  yo'  life  ? 
It's  the  brightest  thing  I  evah  saw  a  dog  do.  He 
thought  it  all  out,  just  like  a  person.  I  wish  Papa 
Jack  could  have  seen  him  do  it.  I'm  goin*  to  treat 


Il8  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

you  to  something  nice  fo'  that,  Hero.  Wait  till  I 
run  back  up-stairs  and  get  my  purse." 

Anxious  to  make  him  do  something  else  interest- 
ing, Howl  still  followed  the  dog.  He  tickled  his 
paws,  turned  his  ears  back  and  blew  in  them  and 
blindfolded  him  with  a  dirty  handkerchief. 

Lloyd  was  gone  longer  than  she  intended,  for  she 
could  not  find  her  purse  for  several  minutes,  and  she 
stopped  to  tell  her  mother  of  Hero's  performance 
with  the  sofa  pillow.  When  she  went  into  the  par- 
lour again,  both  boys  were  kneeling  beside  the  dog. 
Their  backs  were  toward  the  door,  Henderson  had 
brought  the  shawl-strap,  and  they  were  using  it  for 
the  further  discomfort  of  the  patient  old  St.  Bernard. 

"  Here,  Henny,  you  sit  on  his  head,"  commanded 
Howl,  "  and  I'll  buckle  his  hind  feet  to  his  fore  feet, 
so  that  when  he  tries  to  walk  he'll  wabble  around 
and  tip  over.  Won't  that  be  funny  ? " 

"  Stop !  "  demanded  Lloyd.  "  Don't  you  do  that, 
Howl  Sattawhite!  I've  told  you  enough  times  to 
stop  teasing  my  dog." 

Howl  only  giggled  in  reply  and  drew  the  buckle 
tighter.  There  was  a  quick  yelp  of  pain,  and  Hero, 
trying  to  pull  away,  found  himself  fast  by  the  foot. 

Before  Howl  could  rise  from  his  knees,  the  Little 
Colonel  had  darted  across  the  room,  and  seizing 


IN  TOURS  119 

him  by  the  shoulders,  shook  him  till  his  teeth 
chattered. 

"  There ! "  she  said,  giving  him  a  final  shake  as 
she  pushed  him  away.  "  Don't  you  evah  lay  a  fingah 
on  that  dog  again,  as  long  as  you  live.  If  you  do 
you'll  be  sorry.  I'll  do  something  awful  to  you  !  " 

For  the  second  time  that  afternoon  her  face  was 
white  with  anger.  Her  eyes  flashed  so  threateningly 
that  Howl  backed  up  against  the  wall,  thoroughly 
frightened.  Releasing  Hero  from  the  strap,  she  led 
him  out  of  the  room,  and,  with  her  hand  laid  pro- 
tectingly  on  his  collar,  marched  him  out  into  the 
street. 

"  Those  tawmentin'  Sattawhites  !  "  she  grumbled, 
under  her  breath.  "  I  wish  they  were  all  shut  up  in 
jail,  every  one  of  them  !  " 

But  her  anger  died  out  as  she  walked  on  in  the 
bright  sunshine,  watching  the  strange  scenes  around 
her  with  eager  eyes.  More  than  one  head  turned 
admiringly,  as  the  daintily  dressed  little  girl  and  the 
great  St.  Bernard  passed  slowly  down  the  broad 
boulevard.  It  seemed  as  if  all  the  nurses  and  babies 
in  Touraine  were  out  for  an  airing  on  the  grass 
where  the  benches  stood,  between  the  long  double 
rows  of  trees. 

Once  Lloyd  stopped  to  peep  through  a  doorway 


120  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

set  in  a  high  stone  wall.  Within  the  enclosure  a 
group  of  girls,  in  the  dark  uniforms  of  a  charity 
school,  walked  sedately  around,  arm  in  arm,  under 
the  watchful  eyes  of  the  attendant  nuns.  Then 
some  soldiers  passed  on  foot,  and  a  little  while  after, 
some  more  dashed  by  on  horseback,  and  she  remem- 
bered that  Tours  was  the  headquarters  of  the  Ninth 
Army  corps,  and  that  she  might  expect  to  meet  them 
often. 

Not  till  the  tolling  of  the  great  cathedral  bell 
reminded  her  that  it  was  time  to  go  back  to  the 
hotel,  did  she  think  again  of  Howl  and  Henny  and 
Fidelia.  By  that  time  her  walk  had  put  her  into 
such  a  pleasant  frame  of  mind,  that  she  could  think 
of  them  without  annoyance. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WITH    BETTY    AND    EUGENIA 

WHEN  the  Little  Colonel  reached  the  hotel,  the 
omnibus  was  leaving  the  door  to  go  to  the  railroad 
station,  a  few  blocks  away.  Thinking  that  Betty 
and  Eugenia  might  be  on  the  coming  train,  she 
went  into  the  parlour  to  wait  for  the  return  of  the 
omnibus.  She  had  bought  a  box  of  chocolate 
creams  at  the  cake  shop  on  the  corner  to  divide 
with  Hero. 

Fidelia  had  wandered  down  to  the  parlour  in  her 
absence,  and  now  seated  at  the  old  piano  was  bang- 
ing on  its  yellow  keys  with  all  her  might.  She 
played  unusually  well  for  a  girl  of  her  age,  but  Lloyd 
had  a  feeling  that  a  public  parlour  was  not  a  place 
to  show  off  one's  accomplishments,  and  her  nose 
went  up  a  trifle  scornfully  as  she  entered. 

Then  she  caught  sight  of  herself  in  the  mirror 
over  the  mantel,  and  her  expression  changed  in- 
stantly. 

"For   mercy   sakes ! "    she   said   to  herself.     "I 


122  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

look  like  one  of  the  proud  and  haughty  sistahs  in 
'  Cindahella,'  as  if  I  thought  the  earth  wasn't  good 
enough  for  me  to  step  on.  It  certainly  isn't  becom- 
ing, and  it  would  make  me  furious  if  anybody  looked 
at  me  in  such  a  cool,  scornful  way.  I  know  that  I 
feel  that  way  inside  whenevah  I  talk  to  Fidelia.  I 
wondah  if  she  sees  it  in  my  face,  and  that's  what 
makes  her  cross  and  scratchy,  like  a  cat  that  has 
had  its  fur  rubbed  the  wrong  way.  Just  for  fun  I 
believe  I'll  pretend  to  myself  for  ten  minutes  that  I 
love  her  deahly,  and  I'll  smile  when  I  talk  to  her, 
just  as  if  she  were  Betty,  and  nevah  pay  any  atten- 
tion to  her  mean  speeches.  I'll  give  her  this  one 
chance.  Then  if  she  keeps  on  bein'  hateful,  I'll 
nevah  have  anything  moah  to  do  with  her  again." 

So  while  Fidelia  played  on  toward  the  end  of  the 
waltz,  purposely  regardless  of  Lloyd's  presence, 
Lloyd,  sitting  behind  her,  looked  into  the  mirror,  and 
practised  making  pleasant  faces  for  Fidelia's  benefit. 

The  music  came  to  a  close  with  a  loud  double 
bang  that  made  Lloyd  start  up  from  her  chair  with 
a  guilty  flush,  fearing  that  she  had  been  caught  at 
her  peculiar  occupation.  Before  Fidelia  could  say 
anything,  Lloyd  walked  over  to  her  with  the  friend- 
liest of  her  practised  smiles,  and  held  out  the  box  of 
chocolate  creams. 


WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA  12$ 

"  Take  some,"  she  said.  "  They  are  the  best  I've 
had  since  I  left  Kentucky." 

"Thanks,"  said  Fidelia,  stiffly,  screwing  around  on 
the  piano- stool,  and  helping  herself  to  just  one. 
But  feeling  the  warmth  of  Lloyd's  cordial  tone, 
urging  her  to  take  more,  she  thawed  into  smiling 
friendliness,  and  took  several.  "  They  are  delicious !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "You  got  them  at  the  cake  shop 
on  the  corner,  didn't  you  ?  There  are  two  awfully 
nice  American  girls  stopping  at  this  hotel  who 
took  me  in  there  one  day  for  some.  They've  been 
in  Kentucky,  too.  The  one  named  Elizabeth  lives 
there." 

"  Why,  it  must  be  Betty  and  Eugenia ! "  cried 
Lloyd.  "The  very  girls  we  came  here  to  meet. 
Do  you  know  them  ?  " 

"Not  very  well.  We've  only  been  here  a  few 
days.  But  I  dearly  love  the  one  you  call  Betty.  She 
came  into  my  room  one  night  when  I  had  the  tooth- 
ache, and  brought  a  spice  poultice  and  a  hot-water 
bag.  Mamma  was  at  a  concert,  and  Fanchette  was 
cross,  and  I  was  so  miserable  and  lonesome  I  wanted 
to  die.  But  Elizabeth  knew  exactly  what  to  do  to 
stop  the  pain,  and  then  she  stayed  and  talked  to 
me  for  a  long  time.  She  told  me  about  a  house 
party  she  went  to  last  year,  where  the  girls  all 


124  TH&   MTTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

caught  the  measles  at  a  gypsy  camp,  and  she  nearly 
went  blind  on  account  of  it." 

"That  was  my  house  pahty,"  exclaimed  the  Little 
Colonel,  "and  my  mothah  is  Betty's  godmothah,  and 
Betty  is  goin'  to  live  at  my  house  all  next  wintah, 
and  go  to  school  with  me." 

Fidelia  swung  farther  around  on  the  piano-stool, 
and  faced  Lloyd  in  surprise.  "And  are  you  the 
Little  Colonel!"  she  cried.  "From  what  Eliza- 
beth said,  I  thought  she  was  pretty  near  an 
angel ! "  Fidelia's  tone  implied  more  plainly  than 
her  words  that  she  wondered  how  Betty  could 
think  so. 

A  cutting  reply  was  on  the  tip  of  Lloyd's  tongue, 
but  the  sight  of  her  face  in  the  mirror  checked  it. 
She  only  said,  pleasantly,  "Betty  is  certainly  the 
loveliest  girl  in  the  world,  and  —  " 

"  There  she  is  now  !  "  interrupted  Fidelia,  nodding 
toward  the  door  as  voices  sounded  in  the  hall  and 
footsteps  came  out  from  the  office. 

"  Oh,  they'll  be  so  surprised  !  "  said  Lloyd,  looking 
back  with  a  radiant  face  as  she  ran  toward  the  door. 
"We  came  two  whole  days  earlier  than  they  ex- 
pected ! " 

Fidelia  heard  the  joyful  greeting,  the  chorus  of 
surprised  exclamations  as  Lloyd  flew  first  at  Betty, 


WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA  12$ 

then  at  Eugenia,  with  a  hug  and  a  kiss,  then  turned 
to  greet  her  Cousin  Carl. 

"Betty  will  never  look  at  me  again,"  Fidelia 
thought,  with  a  throb  of  jealousy,  turning  away  from 
the  sight  of  their  happy  meeting,  and  beginning  to 
strike  soft  aimless  chords  on  the  piano.  "  I  wish  I 
were  one  of  them,"  she  whispered,  with  the  tears 
springing  to  her  eyes.  "  I  hate  to  be  always  on  the 
edge  of  things,  and  never  in  them.  We  never  stay 
in  a  place  long  enough  at  a  time  to  make  any  real 
friends  or  have  any  good  times." 

Chattering  and  laughing,  and  asking  eager  ques- 
tions, the  girls  hurried  up  the  stairs  to  Mrs.  Sher- 
man's room.  Almost  a  year  had  gone  by  since 
Eugenia  and  Lloyd  had  parted  on  the  lantern  decked 
lawn  at  Locust,  the  last  night  of  the  house  party. 
The  year  had  made  little  difference  in  Lloyd,  but 
Eugenia  had  grown  so  tall  that  the  change  was 
startling. 

"Really,  you  are  taller  than  I,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Sherman,  in  the  midst  of  an  affectionate  greeting,  as 
she  held  her  off  for  a  better  view. 

"  And  doesn't  she  look  stylish  and  young  ladyfied, 
with  her  skirts  down  to  her  ankles,"  added  Lloyd. 
"  You'd  nevah  think  that  she  was  only  fifteen,  would 
you?" 


126  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"I  had  to  have  them  made  long,"  explained  Eu- 
genia, much  flattered  by  Lloyd's  speech.  It  was  her 
greatest  wish  to  appear  "grown  up."  "Papa  says 
that  I  am  probably  as  tall  now  as  I  shall  ever  be, 
and  really  I'd  look  ridiculous  with  my  dresses  any 
shorter." 

Mrs.  Sherman  noticed  presently,  with  a  smile,  that 
Eugenia  seemed  to  have  gained  dignity  with  her 
added  height.  There  was  something  amusingly 
patronising  in  her  manner  toward  the  younger  girls. 
She  answered  Lloyd  several  times  with  an  "  Oh,  no, 
child  "  that  was  almost  grandmotherly  in  its  tone. 

"  But  here  is  somebody  who  has  come  back  just  as 
sweet  and  childlike  as  ever,"  thought  Mrs.  Sherman, 
twisting  one  of  Betty's  brown  curls  around  her  finger. 
Then  she  said  aloud.  "  Was  the  trip  as  delightful 
as  you  dreamed  it  would  be,  my  little  Tusitala?" 

"Oh,  yes,  godmother,"  sighed  Betty,  blissfully. 
"  It  was  a  thousand  times  better !  And  the  best  of 
it  is  my  eyes  are  as  well  as  ever.  I  needn't  be  afraid, 
now,  of  that  <  long  night '  that  haunted  me  like  a  bad 
dream." 

All  during  dinner  Fidelia  kept  looking  across  at 
the  merry  party  sitting  at  the  next  table,  and  wished 
she  could  be  with  them.  She  could  not  help  hearing 
all  they  said,  for  they  were  only  a  few  feet  away,  and 


WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA  I2/ 

there  was  no  one  talking  at  the  table  where  she  sat. 
The  boys  were  in  the  children's  dining-room  with 
Fanchette,  and  her  mother  was  spending  the  evening 
with  some  friends  at  the  new  hotel  across  the  way. 

"  I'm  going  to  make  believe  that  I'm  one  of  them," 
the  lonely  child  said  to  herself,  smiling  as  she  caught 
a  friendly  nod  from  Betty.  So  she  listened  eagerly 
to  Mr.  Forbes's  account  of  their  visit  to  Venice,  and 
to  the  volcano  of  Vesuvius,  and  laughed  with  the 
others  over  the  amusing  experiences  Betty  and 
Eugenia  had  in  Norway  with  a  chambermaid  who 
could  not  understand  them,  and  in  Holland  with  an 
old  Dutch  market-woman,  the  day  they  became  sepa- 
rated from  Mr.  Forbes,  and  were  lost  for  several 
hours. 

Fidelia's  salad  almost  choked  her,  there  was  such 
an  ache  in  her  throat  when  she  heard  them  planning 
an  excursion  for  the  next  day.  She  had  no  one  to 
make  plans  with,  and  when  she  was  taken  sightsee- 
ing it  was  by  a  French  teacher,  more  intent  on  im- 
proving her  pupil's  accent  than  in  giving  her  a 
happy  time. 

As  they  were  finishing  their  dessert,  Mr.  Sherman 
suddenly  remembered  that  he  had  a  letter  in  his 
pocket  for  Lloyd,  which  he  had  forgotten  to  give 
her. 


128  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  It  is  from  Joyce,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  post- 
mark. "  Oh,  if  she  were  only  heah,  what  a  lovely 
time  we  could  have  !  It  would  be  like  havin'  anothah 
house  pahty.  May  I  read  it  now  at  the  table, 
mothah  ?  It  is  to  all  of  us." 

Fidelia  almost  held  her  breath.  She  was  so  afraid 
that  Mrs.  Sherman  would  suggest  waiting  until  they 
went  to  the  parlour.  There  she  could  no  longer  be 
one  of  them,  no  matter  how  hard  she  might  pretend. 
She  wanted  the  interesting  play  to  go  on  as  long  as 
possible.  She  did  not  know  that  she  ought  not  to 
listen.  There  were  many  things  she  had  never  been 
taught.  Lloyd  began  to  read  aloud. 

"DEAR  GIRLS:  —  You  will  be  in  Tours  by  the 
time  this  letter  reaches  you,  and  I  am  simply  wild  to 
be  there  with  you.  Oh,  if  I  could  be  there  only  one 
day  to  take  you  to  all  the  old  places  !  Do  please  go 
to  the  home  of  the  '  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor,'  and 
ask  for  Sister  Denisa.  Give  her  my  love,  and  tell 
her  that  I  often  think  of  her.  And  do  go  to  that 
funny  pie  shop  on  the  Rue  Nationale,  where  every- 
body is  allowed  to  walk  around  and  help  themselves 
and  keep  their  own  count.  And  eat  one  of  those  tiny 
delicious  tarts  for  me.  They're  the  best  in  the  world. 

"1  can't  think  of  anything  else  to-day,  but  that 


WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA  129 

jralk  which  you  will  be  taking  soon  without  me.  I 
can  shut  my  eyes  and  see  every  inch  of  the  way,  as 
it  used  to  look  when  we  went  home  just  after  sunset. 
There  is  the  river  Loire  all  rosy  red  in  the  after- 
glow, and  the  bridge  with  the  soldiers  marching 
across  it ;  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  is  the 
little  old  village  of  St.  Symphorian  with  its  narrow, 
crooked  streets.  How  I  love  every  old  cobblestone ! 
You  will  see  the  fat  old  women  rattling  home  in  their 
market  carts,  and  hear  the  clang  and  click  of  wooden 
shoes  down  the  streets.  Then  there'll  be  the  high 
gate  of  customs  in  the  old  stone  wall  that  fences  in 
the  village,  and  the  country  road  beyond.  You'll 
climb  the  hill  with  the  new  moon  coming  up  behind 
the  tall  Lombardy  poplars,  and  go  on  between  the 
fields,  turning  brown  in  the  twilight,  till  the  Gate  of 
the  Giant  Scissors  looms  up  beside  the  road  like  a  pic- 
ture out  of  some  fairy  tale.  A  little  farther  on 
you'll  come  to  Madame's  dear  old  villa  with  the  high 
wall  around  it,  and  the  laurel  hedges  and  lime-trees 
inside. 

"  I  wonder  which  of  you  will  have  my  room  with 
the  blue  parrots  on  the  wall-paper.  Oh,  I'm  home- 
sick to  go  back.  Yet,  isn't  it  strange,  when  I  was 
there  I  used  to  long  so  for  America,  that  many  a 
time  I  climbed  up  in  the  pear-tree  at  the  end  of  the 


130  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

garden  for  a  good  cry.  Don't  forget  to  swing  up 
into  that  pear-tree.  There's  a  fine  view  from  the  top. 
"When  you  see  Jules,  ask  him  to  show  you  the 
goats  that  chewed  up  the  cushions  of  the  pony  cart, 
the  day  we  had  our  Thanksgiving  barbecue  in  the 
garden.  I  fairly  ache  to  be  with  you.  Please  write 
me  a  good  long  letter  and  tell  me  what  you  are  doing  ; 
and  whenever  you  hear  the  nightingales  in  Madam  e's 
garden,  and  the  cathedral  bells  tolling  out  across  the 
Loire,  think  of  your  loving  JOYCE." 

"  Let's  do  those  things  to-morrow,"  exclaimed 
Lloyd,  as  she  folded  the  letter  and  slipped  it  back 
into  its  envelope.  "  I  don't  want  to  waste  time  on 
any  old  chateaux  with  the  Gate  of  the  Giant  Scissors 
just  across  the  river,  that  we  haven't  seen  yet." 

"  I  have  heard  about  that  gate  ever  since  we  left 
America,"  said  Mr.  Forbes,  laughingly.  "  Nobody 
has  taken  the  trouble  to  inform  me  why  it  is  so 
important,  or  why  it  was  selected  for  a  meeting-place. 
Somebody  owes  me  an  explanation." 

"  It's  only  an  old  gate  with  a  mammoth  pair  of 
scissors  swung  on  a  medallion  above  it,"  said  Mr. 
Sherman.  "  They  were  put  there  by  a  half-crazy  old 
man  who  built  the  place,  by  the  name  of  Ciseaux. 
Joyce  Ware  spent  a  winter  in  sight  of  it,  and  she 


WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA  131 

came  back  with  some  wonderful  tale  about  the 
scissors  being  the  property  of  a  prince  who  went 
around  doing  all  sorts  of  impossible  things  with 
them.  I  believe  the  girls  have  actually  come  to 
think  that  the  scissors  are  enchanted." 

"  Oh,  Papa  Jack,  stop  teasin' ! "  said  the  Little 
Colonel.  "  You  know  we  don't !  " 

"If  it  is  really  settled  that  we  are  to  go  there 
to-morrow,  I  want  to  hear  the  story,"  said  Cousin 
Carl.  "  I  make  a  practice  of  reading  the  history  of 
a  place  before  I  visit  it,  so  I'll  have  to  know  the 
story  of  the  gate  in  order  to  take  a  proper  interest 
in  it." 

"Come  into  the  parlour,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman, 
rising.  "  Betty  will  tell  us." 

As  she  turned,  she  saw  Fidelia  looking  after  the 
girls  with  wistful  eyes,  and  she  read  the  longing  and 
loneliness  in  her  face. 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  come  too,  and  hear  the  fairy 
tale  with  us  ? "  she  asked,  kindly  holding  out  her 
hand. 

A  look  of  happy  surprise  came  over  Fidelia's  face, 
and  before  she  could  stammer  out  her  acceptance  of 
the  unlooked-for  invitation,  Mrs.  Sherman  drew  her 
toward  her  and  led  her  into  the  little  circle  in  one 
corner  of  the  parlour. 


132  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"Now,  we  are  ready,  Tusitala,"  said  Mrs.  Sher- 
man, settling  herself  on  the  sofa,  with  Fidelia  beside 
her.  Shaking  back  her  brown  curls,  Betty  began  the 
fairy  tale  that  Joyce's  Cousin  Kate  had  told  one 
bleak  November  day,  to  make  the  homesick  child 
forget  that  she  was  "a  stranger  in  a  strange  land." 

"Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  far  island  of  the  sea, 
there  lived  a  king  with  seven  sons." 

Word  for  word  as  she  had  heard  it,  Betty  told  the 
adventures  of  the  princes  ( "  the  three  that  were  dark 
and  the  three  that  were  fair"),  and  then  of  the 
middle  son,  Prince  Ethelried,  to  whom  the  old  king 
gave  no  portion  of  his  kingdom.  With  no  sword, 
nothing  but  the  scissors  of  the  Court  Tailor,  he  had 
been  sent  out  into  the  world  to  make  his  fortune. 
Even  Cousin  Carl  listened  with  close  attention  to  the 
prince's  adventures  with  the  Ogre,  in  which  he  was 
victorious,  because  the  grateful  fairy  whom  he  had 
rescued  laid  on  the  scissors  a  magic  spell. 

"  Here,"  she  said,  giving  them  into  his  hands  again, 
"because  thou  wast  persevering  and  fearless  in 
setting  me  free,  these  shall  win  for  thee  thy  heart's 
desire.  But  remember  that  thou  canst  not  keep 
them  sharp  and  shining  unless  they  are  used  at  least 
once  each  day  in  some  unselfish  service."  After 
that  he  had  only  to  utter  his  request  in  rhyme,  and 


WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA  133 

immediately  they  would  shoot  out  to  an  enormous 
size  that  could  cut  down  forests  for  him,  bridge 
chasms,  and  reap  whole  wheat  fields  at  a  single 
stroke. 

Many  a  peasant  he  befriended,  shepherds  and  high- 
born dames,  lords  and  lowly  beggars  ;  and  at  the  last, 
when  he  stood  up  before  the  Ogre  to  fight  for  the 
beautiful  princess  kept  captive  in  the  tower,  it  was 
their  voices,  shouting  out  their  tale  of  gratitude  to 
him  for  all  these  unselfish  services,  that  made  the 
scissors  grow  long  enough  and  strong  enough  to  cut 
the  ugly  old  Ogre's  head  off. 

"So  he  married  the  princess,"  concluded  Betty  at 
last,  "  and  came  into  the  kingdom  that  was  his  heart's 
desire.  There  was  feasting  and  merrymaking  for 
seventy  days  and  seventy  nights,  and  they  all  lived 
happily  ever  after.  On  each  gable  of  the  house  he 
fastened  a  pair  of  shining  scissors  to  remind  himself 
that  only  through  unselfish  service  to  others  comes 
the  happiness  that  is  highest  and  best.  Over  the 
great  entrance  gate  he  hung  the  ones  that  served 
him  so  valiantly,  saying,  '  Only  those  who  belong  to 
the  kingdom  of  loving  hearts  can  ever  enter  here ' ; 
and  to  this  day  they  guard  the  portal  of  Ethelried, 
and  only  those  who  belong  to  the  kingdom  of  loving 
hearts  may  enter  the  Gate  of  the  Giant  Scissors." 


134  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

"Go  on,"  said  Mr.  Forbes,  as  Betty  stopped. 
"  What  happened  next  ?  I  want  to  hear  some  more." 

"  So  did  Joyce,"  said  Betty.  "  She  used  to  climb 
up  in  the  pear-tree  and  watch  the  gate,  wishing  she 
knew  what  lay  behind  it,  and  one  day  she  found  out. 
A  poor  little  boy  lived  there  with  only  the  care-taker 
and  another  servant.  The  care-taker  beat  him  and 
half  starved  him.  His  uncle  didn't  know  how  he 
was  treated,  for  he  was  away  in  Algiers.  Joyce 
found  this  little  Jules  out  in  the  fields  one  day, 
tending  the  goats,  and  they  got  to  be  great  friends. 
She  told  him  this  story,  and  they  played  that  he  was 
the  prince  and  she  was  the  Giant  Scissors  who  was 
to  rescue  him  from  the  clutches  of  the  Ogre.  She 
made  up  a  rhyme  for  him  to  say.  He  had  only  to 
whisper : 

" «  Giant  Scissors,  fearless  friend, 
Hasten,  pray,  thy  aid  to  lend,' 

and  she  would  fly  to  help  him.  She  really  did,  too, 
for  she  played  ghost  one  night  to  frighten  the  old 
care-taker,  and  she  told  Jules's  uncle,  when  he  came 
back,  how  cruelly  the  poor  little  thing  had  been 
treated. 

"  Then  the  little  prince  really  did  come  into  his 
kingdom,  for  all  sorts  of  lovely  things  happened 


WITH  BETTY  AND  EUGENIA  135 

after  that.  The  gate  had  been  closed  for  years  on 
account  of  a  terrible  quarrel  in  the  Ciseaux  family, 
but  at  last  something  Joyce  did  helped  to  make  it  up. 
The  gate  swung  open,  and  the  old  white-haired 
brother  and  sister  went  back  to  the  home  of  their 
childhood  together,  and  it  was  Christmas  Day  in  the 
morning.  They  had  been  kept  from  going  through 
the  gate  all  those  years,  because  the  Giant  Scissors 
wouldn't  let  them  pass.  Only  those  who  belong  to 
the  kingdom  of  loving  hearts  can  enter  in." 

"  Some  day  you  must  put  that  all  in  a  book,  Betty," 
said  Cousin  Carl,  when  she  had  finished.  "  When  we 
go  to  see  the  gate,  I'll  take  my  camera,  and  we'll  get  a 
picture  of  it.  Now  I  feel  that  I  can  properly  appre- 
ciate it,  having  heard  its  wonderful  history." 

There  was  a  teasing  light  in  his  eyes  that  made 
Lloyd  say,  "  Now  you're  laughin'  at  us,  Cousin  Carl, 
but  it  doesn't  make  any  difference.  I'd  rathah  see 
that  gate  than  any  old  chateau  in  France." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

AT    THE    GATE   OF   THE    GIANT   SCISSORS 

EACH  of  the  girls  answered  Joyce's  letter,  but  the 
Little  Colonel's  was  the  first  to  find  its  way  to  the 
little  brown  house  in  Plainsville,  Kansas. 

"  Dear  Joyce,"  she  wrote.  "  We  were  all  dread- 
fully disappointed  yesterday  morning  when  mother 
and  Papa  Jack  came  back  from  Madame's  villa,  and 
told  us  that  she  could  not  let  us  stay  there.  She 
has  some  English  people  in  the  house,  and  could  not 
give  us  rooms  even  for  one  night.  She  said  that  we 
must  be  disappointed  also  about  seeing  Jules,  for  his 
Uncle  Martin  has  taken  him  to  Paris  to  stay  a 
month.  I  could  have  cried,  I  was  so  sorry. 

"  Ever  since  we  left  home  I  have  been  planning 
what  we  should  do  when  we  reached  the  Gate  of  the 
Giant  Scissors.  I  wanted  to  do  all  the  things  that 
you  did,  as  far  as  possible.  I  was  going  to  have  a 
barbecue  for  Jules,  down  in  the  garden  by  the 
pagoda,  and  to  have  some  kind  of  a  midsummer  fete 
136 


AT  THE    GATE    OF   THE   GIANT  SCISSORS    137 

for  the  peasant  children  who  came  to  your  Christmas 
tree. 

"  Madame  was  sorry,  too,  that  she  couldn't  take  us, 
when  she  found  that  we  were  your  friends,  and  she 
asked  mother  to  bring  us  all  out  the  next  day  and 
have  tea  in  the  pagoda.  As  soon  as  mother  and 
Papa  Jack  came  back,  they  took  us  to  see  Sister 
Denisa  at  the  home  of  the  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor. 
I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her  face  shine  when  we 
told  her  that  we  were  friends  of  yours.  She  said 
lovely  things  about  you,  and  the  tears  came  into  her 
eyes  when  she  told  us  how  much  she  missed  your 
visits,  after  you  went  back  to  America. 

"  Next  day  we  went  to  Madame' s,  and  she  took  us 
over  to  the  Ciseaux  place  to  see  Jules's  great-aunt 
Desire"e.  She  is  a  beautiful  old  lady.  She  talked 
about  you  as  if  you  were  an  angel,  or  a  saint  with  a 
halo  around  your  head.  She  feels  that  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  you  that  she  might  still  be  only  'Number 
Thirty-nine '  among  all  those  paupers,  instead  of  being 
the  mistress  of  her  brother's  comfortable  home. 

"After  we  left  there,  we  passed  the  place  where 
Madame's  washerwoman  lives.  A  little  girl  peeped 
out  at  us  through  the  hedge.  Madame  told  her  to 
show  the  American  ladies  the  doll  that  she  had  in 
her  arms.  She  held  it  out,  and  then  snatched  it 


138  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

back  as  if  she  were  jealous  of  our  even  looking  at  it. 
Madame  told  us  that  it  was  the  one  you  gave  her  at 
the  Noel  fete.  It  is  the  only  doll  the  child  ever  had, 
and  she  has  carried  it  ever  since,  even  taking  it  to 
bed  with  her.  She  has  named  it  for  you. 

"  Madame  said  in  her  funny  broken  English,  '  Ah, 
it  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  leave  such  memories  be- 
hind one  as  Mademoiselle  Joyce  has  left.'  I  would 
have  told  her  about  the  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart, 
but  it  is  so  hard  for  her  to  understand  anything  I 
say.  I  think  you  began  yours  over  here  in  France, 
long  before  Betty  told  us  of  the  one  in  Samoa,  or 
Eugenia  gave  us  the  rings  to  help  us  remember. 

"  We  took  Fidelia  Sattawhite  with  us.  She  is  the 
girl  I  wrote  to  you  about  who  was  so  rude  to  me, 
and  who  quarrelled  so  much  with  her  brothers  on 
shipboard.  I  thought  it  would  spoil  everything  to 
have  her  along,  but  mother  insisted  on  my  inviting 
her.  She  feels  sorry  for  her.  Fidelia  acted  very  well 
until  we  went  over  to  the  Ciseaux  place.  But  when 
we  got  to  the  gate  she  stood  and  looked  up  at  the 
scissors  over  it,  and  refused  to  go  in.  Madame  and 
mother  both  coaxed  and  coaxed  her,  but  she  was  too 
queer  for  anything.  She  wouldn't  move  a  step.  She 
just  stood  there  in  the  road,  saying,  *  No'm,  I  won't 
go  in.  I  don't  want  to.  I'll  stay  out  here  and  wait 


AT  THE    GATE   OF  THE    GIANT  SCISSORS    139 

for  you.  No'm,  nothing  anybody  can  say  can  make 
me  go  in.' 

"Down  she  sat  on  the  grass  as  flat  as  Humpty 
Dumpty  when  he  had  his  great  fall,  and  all  the 
king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  couldn't  have 
made  her  get  up  till  she  was  ready.  We  couldn't 
understand  why  she  should  act  so.  She  told  Betty 
that  night  that  she  was  afraid  to  go  through  the 
gate.  She  remembered  that  in  the  story  where  the 
old  king  and  the  brothers  of  Ethelried  came  riding 
up  to  the  portal  '  the  scissors  leaped  from  their  place 
and  snapped  so  angrily  in  their  faces  that  they 
turned  and  fled.  Only  those  who  belong  to  the  king- 
dom of  loving  hearts  could  enter  in.'  She  told  Betty 
that  she  knew  she  didn't  belong  to  that  kingdom,  for 
nobody  loved  her,  and  often  she  didn't  love  anybody 
for  days.  She  was  afraid  to  go  through  the  gate  for 
fear  the  scissors  would  leap  down  at  her,  and  she 
would  be  so  ashamed  to  be  driven  back  before  us  all. 
So  she  thought  she  would  pretend  that  she  didn't 
want  to  go  in.  She  had  believed  every  word  of  that 
fairy  tale. 

"We  had  a  beautiful  time  in  the  garden.  We 
went  down  all  the  winding  paths  between  the  high 
laurel  hedges  where  you  used  to  walk,  and  almost  got 
lost,  they  had  so  many  unexpected  twists  and  turns. 


I4O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

The  old  statues  of  Adam  and  Eve,  grinning  at  each 
other  across  the  fountain,  are  so  funny.  We  saw 
the  salad  beds  with  the  great  glass  bells  over  them, 
and  we  climbed  into  the  pear-tree  and  sat  looking 
over  the  wall,  wondering  how  you  could  have  been 
homesick  in  such  an  interesting  place. 

"  Berthe  served  tea  in  the  pagoda,  and  because  we 
asked  about  Gabriel's  music,  Madame  smiled  and 
sent  Berthe  away  with  a  message.  Pretty  soon  we 
heard  his  old  accordeon  playing  away,  out  of  sight  in 
the  coach-house,  and  then  we  knew  what  kind  of 
music  you  had  at  the  Noel  fete.  Sort  of  wheezy, 
wasn't  it?  Still  it  sounded  sweet,  too,  at  that 
distance. 

"We  took  Hero  with  us,  and  he  was  really  the 
guest  of  honour  at  the  party.  When  Madame  saw 
the  Red  Cross  on  his  collar  and  heard  his  history, 
she  couldn't  do  enough  for  him.  She  fed  him  cakes 
until  I  thought  he  surely  would  be  ill.  It  was  a  Red 
Cross  nurse  who  wrote  to  Madame  about  her  hus- 
band. He  was  wounded  in  the  Franco-Prussian  war, 
too,  fighting  against  the  Major.  Madame  went  on 
to  get  him  and  bring  him  home,  and  she  says  she 
never  can  forget  the  kindness  that  was  shown  to  her 
—  an  enemy  of  the  Emperor  —  when  she  crossed 
the  lines  under  the  protection  of  the  Red  Cross. 


AT  THE   GATE   OF  THE   GIANT  SCISSORS    14! 

"She  had  met  Clara  Barton,  too,  and  while  we 
were  talking  about  the  good  she  has  done,  Madame 
said,  '  The  Duchess  of  Baden  may  have  sent  her  the 
Gold  Cross  of  Remembrance,  but  the  grateful  hearts 
of  many  a  French  wife  and  mother  will  for  ever  hold 
the  rosary  of  her  beautiful  deeds ! '  Wasn't  that  a 
lovely  thing  to  have  said  about  one  ? 

"  We  start  to  London  Thursday,  and  I'll  write  again 
from  there.  With  much  love  from  us  all,  Lloyd." 

The  long  letter  which  Lloyd  folded  and  addressed 
after  a  careful  re-reading,  had  not  been  all  written  in 
one  day.  She  had  begun  it  while  waiting  for  the 
others  to  finish  dressing  one  morning,  had  added  a 
few  pages  that  afternoon,  and  finished  it  the  next 
evening  at  bedtime. 

"Heah  is  my  lettah  to  Joyce,  mothah,"  she  said, 
as  she  kissed  her  good  night.  "  Won't  you  look  ovah 
it,  please,  and  see  if  all  the  words  are  spelled  right  ? 
I  want  to  send  it  in  the  mawnin." 

Mrs.  Sherman  laid  the  letter  aside  to  attend  to 
later,  and  forgot  it  until  long  after  Lloyd  was  asleep, 
and  Mr.  Sherman  had  come  up-stairs.  Then,  seeing 
it  on  the  table,  she  glanced  rapidly  over  the  neatly 
written  pages. 

"  I  want  you  to  look  at  this,  Jack,"  she  said,  pres- 
ently, handing  him  the  letter.  "It  is  one  of  the 


142  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

results  of  the  house  party  for  which  I  am  most 
thankful.  You  remember  what  a  task  it  always 
was  for  Lloyd  to  write  a  letter.  She  groaned  for 
days  whenever  she  received  one,  because  it  had  to 
be  answered.  But  when  Joyce  went  away  she  said, 
'Now,  Lloyd,  I  know  I  shall  be  homesick  for 
Locust,  and  I  want  to  hear  every  single  thing  that 
happens.  Don't  you  dare  send  me  a  stingy  two-page 
letter,  half  of  it  apologising  for  not  writing  sooner, 
and  half  of  it  promising  to  do  better  next  time. 

" '  Just  prop  my  picture  up  in  front  of  you  and  look 
me  in  the  eyes  and  begin  to  talk.  Tell  me  all  the 
little  things  that  most  people  leave  out ;  what  he  said 
and  she  said  on  the  way  to  the  picnic,  and  how  Betty 
looked  in  her  daffodil  dress,  with  the  sun  shining  on 
her  brown  curls.  Write  as  if  you  were  making  pic- 
tures for  me,  so  that  when  I  read  I  can  see  every- 
thing you  are  doing.' 

"It  was  excellent  advice,  and  as  Joyce's  letters 
were  written  in  that  way,  Lloyd  had  a  good  model  to 
copy.  Joyce,  being  an  artist,  naturally  makes  pic- 
tures even  of  her  letters.  When  Betty  went  away 
and  began  sending  home  such  well-written  accounts 
of  her  journey,  I  found  that  Lloyd's  style  improved 
constantly.  She  wrote  a  dear  little  letter  to  the 
Major,  last  week,  telling  all  about  Hero.  I  was 


AT  THE    GATE    OF   THE   GIANT  SCISSORS    143 

surprised  to  see  how  prettily  she  expressed  her 
appreciation  of  his  gift." 

Mr.  Sherman  took  the  letter  and  began  to  read. 
In  two  places  he  corrected  a  misspelled  word,  and 
here  and  there  supplied  missing  commas  and  quota- 
tion marks.  There  was  a  gratified  smile  on  his  face 
when  he  finished.  "That  is  certainly  a  lengthy 
letter  for  a  twelve-year-old  girl  to  write,"  he  said, 
in  a  pleased  tone,  "  and  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting 
to  Joyce.  The  letters  she  wrote  me  from  the 
Cuckoo's  Nest  were  stiff,  short  scrawls  compared  to 
this.  I  must  tell  my  Little  Colonel  how  proud  I 
am  of  her  improvement." 

His  words  of  praise  were  not  spoken,  however. 
He  expressed  his  appreciation,  later,  by  leaving  on 
her  table  a  box  of  foreign  correspondence  paper.  It 
was  of  the  best  quality  he  could  find  in  Tours,  and 
to  Lloyd's  delight  the  monogram  engraved  on  it  was 
even  prettier  than  Eugenia's. 

"  Why  did  Papa  Jack  write  this  on  the  first  sheet 
in  the  box,  mothah  ?  "  she  asked,  coming  to  her  with 
a  sentence  written  in  her  father's  big,  businesslike 
hand  :  '  There  is  no  surer  way  to  build  a  Road  of  the 
Loving  Heart  in  the  memory  of  absent  friends,  than  to 
bridge  the  space  between  with  the  cheer  and  sympathy 
and  good-will  of  friendly  letters' 


144  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  Why  did  Papa  Jack  write  that  ? "  she  repeated. 

"  Because  he  saw  your  last  letter  to  Joyce,  and  was 
so  pleased  with  the  improvement  you  have  made," 
answered  Mrs.  Sherman.  "  He  has  given  you  a 
good  text  for  your  writing-desk." 

"I'll  paste  it  in  the  top,"  said  Lloyd.  "Then  I 
can't  lose  it."  " '  There  is  no  surer  way,' "  she 
repeated  to  herself  as  she  carried  the  box  back  to 
her  room,  " « to  bridge  the  space  between  .  .  .  with 
the  cheer  and  sympathy  and  good-will.'  " 

There  flashed  across  her  mind  the  thought  of  some 
one  who  needed  cheer  and  sympathy  far  more  than 
Joyce  did,  and  who  would  welcome  a  friendly  letter 
from  her  with  its  foreign  stamp,  as  eagerly  as  if  it 
were  some  real  treasure.  Jessie  Nolan  was  the  girl 
she  thought  of,  an  invalid  with  a  crippled  spine,  to 
whom  the  dull  days  in  her  wheeled  chair  by  the 
window  seemed  endless,  and  who  had  so  little  to 
brighten  her  monotonous  life. 

"  I'll  write  her  a  note  this  minute,"  thought  Lloyd, 
with  a  warm  glow  in  her  heart.  "  I'll  describe  some 
of  the  sights  we  have  seen,  and  send  her  that  fo' 
leafed  clovah  that  I  found  at  the  chateau  yestahday, 
undah  a  window  of  the  great  hall  where  Anne  of 
Brittany  was  married  ovah  fo'  hundred  yeahs  ago.  I 
don't  suppose  Jessie  gets  a  lettah  once  a  yeah." 


AT  THE   GATE   OF  THE   GIANT  SCISSORS    14$ 

When  that  note  was  written,  Lloyd  thought  of 
Mom  Beck  and  the  pride  that  would  shine  in  the 
face  of  her  old  black  nurse  if  she  should  receive  a 
letter  from  Europe,  and  how  proudly  it  would  be 
carried  around  and  displayed  to  all  the  coloured 
people  in  the  Valley.  So  with  the  kindly  impulse 
of  her  father's  text  still  upon  her,  she  dashed  off  a 
note  to  her,  telling  her  of  some  of  her  visits  to  the 
palaces  of  bygone  kings  and  queens. 

Eugenia  came  in  as  she  finished,  but  before  she 
closed  her  desk  she  jotted  two  names  on  a  slip  of 
paper.  Mrs.  Waters's  was  one.  She  was  a  little  old 
Englishwoman,  who  did  fine  laundry  work  in  the 
Valley,  and  who  was  always  talking  about  the 
'awthorne  'edges  in  her  old  English  home. 

"I'll  write  to  her  from  London,"  Lloyd  thought. 
"  If  we  should  get  a  sight  of  any  of  the  royal  family, 
how  tickled  she  would  be  to  hear  it." 

The  other  name  was  Janet  McDonald.  She  was 
a  sad,  sweet-faced  young  teacher  whom  Miss  Allison 
always  called  her  "Scotch  lassie  Jane."  "I  don't 
suppose  she'd  care  to  get  a  letter  from  a  little  girl 
like  me,"  thought  Lloyd,  "but  I  know  she'd  love 
to  have  a  piece  of  heather  from  the  hills  near  her 
home.  I'll  send  her  a  piece  when  we  get  up  in 
Scotland." 


146  THE  LITTLE    CO  LONE  US  HERO 

The  letter  that  Eugenia  sent  to  Joyce  was  only 
a  short  outline  of  her  plans.  She  knew  that  the 
other  girls  had  sent  long  accounts  of  their  trip 
through  Touraine,  so  hers  was  much  shorter  than 
usual. 

"Papa  has  decided  to  send  me  to  a  school  just 
outside  of  Paris  this  year,"  she  wrote,  "instead  of 
the  one  in  New  York,  so  it  will  be  a  long  time  before 
I  see  my  native  land  again.  He  will  have  to  be  over 
here  several  months,  and  can  spend  Christmas  and 
Easter  with  me,  so  I  can  see  him  fully  as  often  as 
I  used  to  at  home. 

"  It  is  a  very  select  school.  Madame  recommends 
it  highly,  and  I  am  simply  delighted.  A  New  York 
girl  whom  I  know  very  well  is  to  be  there  too,  and 
we  are  looking  forward  to  all  sorts  of  larks. 
Thursday  we  are  to  start  to  London  for  a  short  tour 
of  England  and  Scotland.  Then  the  others  are 
going  home  and  papa  and  I  shall  go  by  Chester  for 
my  maid.  Poor  old  Eliot  has  had  a  glorious  vacation 
at  home,  she  writes.  She  is  to  stay  at  the  school 
with  me.  We  shall  be  so  busy  until  I  get  settled 
that  I  shall  not  have  time  to  write  soon  ;  but  no 
matter  how  far  my  letters  may  be  apart,  I  am  always 
your  devoted  EUGENIA." 


CHAPTER   X. 

ON    THE    WING 

"Wno  is  going  away?"  asked  Lloyd,  one  after- 
noon, of  the  girls  who  were  sitting  in  her  room, 
manicuring  their  nails.  "  There  goes  a  pile  of  trunks 
out  to  the  baggage  wagon." 

As  she  spoke,  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door 
of  the  hotel,  and  Fanchette  went  out  with  the  poodle 
in  her  arms. 

"  The  Sattawhites,"  answered  Eugenia.  "  There's 
Howl  and  Henny  climbing  into  the  carriage,  and,  oh, 
look,  girls!  There  comes  Mrs.  Sattawhite  herself. 
I  haven't  had  many  glimpses  of  her.  Isn't  she 
gorgeous  !  You  know  they  had  to  leave,"  she  con- 
tinued, turning  to  the  girls.  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
what  happened  early  this  morning  while  you  were 
down-town. 

"  I  was  up  in  my  room  writing  to  Joyce,  when  I 
heard  a  rumble  and  a  running  down  in  the  back 
hall.  Somebody  called  '  Fire  !  Fire  ! '  Then  some- 
body else  took  it  up,  and  the  old  gentleman  at  the 
147 


148  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

end  of  the  hall,  who  never  appears  in  public  until 
noon,  came  bursting  out  of  his  room  in  his  bath  robe, 
his  shoes  in  one  hand  and  his  false  teeth  in  the  other. 
It  was  the  funniest  sight !  There  was  wild  excite- 
ment for  a  few  minutes.  One  woman  began  throw- 
ing things  out  of  the  window,  and  another  stood  and 
shrieked  and  wrung  her  hands. 

"The  waiter  with  the  long  black  side-whiskers 
tore  up-stairs  and  grabbed  his  arms  full  of  those 
bottles  in  the  racks  —  you  know  —  those  fire-extin- 
guishing bottles  that  have  some  kind  of  chemical 
stuff  in  them.  There  was  a  strong  smell  of  smoke 
and  a  little  puff  of  it  curling  up  from  under  the 
stairs.  He  threw  all  those  bottles  down  into  the 
lower  hall.  You  can  imagine  the  smash  there  was 
when  they  struck  the  stone  floor. 

"  Papa  rushed  down  to  investigate,  at  the  first 
alarm.  He  found  that  it  was  only  Howl  and  Henny 
playing  hook-and-ladder  with  a  little  red  wagon. 
They  had  taken  an  old  flannel  blouse  of  Henny's  and 
set  fire  to  it.  Howl  explained  that  they  did  it  be- 
cause woollen  rags  make  such  a  nice  thick  smoke, 
and  last  a  long  time,  and  when  they  yelled  fire  they 
were  not  to  blame,  he  said,  if  other  people  didn't 
know  that  they  were  'jes'  a-playin',  and  went  and 
yelled  in  earnest.' 


ON  THE    WING  149 

"  Papa  took  their  part,  and  said  that  two  boys  with 
as  much  energy  as  they  have  must  find  an  outlet 
somewhere,  and  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  they  were 
restless,  cooped  up  in  a  hotel  day  after  day,  with  no 
amusement  but  their  prim  walks  with  the  maid  and 
the  poodle.  But  the  old  gentleman  who  had  been 
so  frightened  that  he  ran  out  in  public  without  his 
teeth,  and  the  woman  who  had  thrown  her  toilet 
bottles  out  of  the  window  and  broken  them,  were 
furious.  They  complained  to  the  landlord,  and  said 
that  it  was  not  the  first  offence.  The  boys  were 
always  annoying  them. 

"  So  the  landlord  had  to  go  to  Mrs.  Sattawhite. 
She  found  out  what  the  old  gentleman  said,  that  a 
mother  who  had  to  go  travelling  around  all  over 
Europe,  giving  her  time  and  attention  to  society  and 
a  miserable  poodle,  had  better  put  her  children  in 
an  orphan  asylum  before  she  started.  She  was  so 
indignant  that  I  could  hear  her  talking  away  down 
in  the  office.  She  said  that  she  would  leave  the 
instant  that  Fanchette  could  get  the  trunks  packed. 
So  there  they  go." 

Mrs.  Sattawhite  had  sailed  back  to  the  office  dur- 
ing the  telling  of  Eugenia's  story,  so  their  departure 
was  delayed  a  moment.  When  she  came  out  again, 
Fidelia  followed  her  sulkily.  Just  as  they  drove  off, 


I5O  THE  LITTLE   COLO  NEDS  HERO 

she  looked  up  at  the  open  window,  and  saw  the  girls, 
who  were  waving  good-bye.  Then  a  smile  flickered 
across  her  sorry  little  face,  for,  moved  by  some  sud- 
den impulse,  the  Little  Colonel  leaned  out  and  threw 
her  a  kiss. 

"I  suppose  I'll  nevah  see  her  again,"  she  said, 
thoughtfully,  as  the  carriage  rolled  around  a  corner, 
out  of  sight.  "  I  wish  now  that  I  had  been  niceah  to 
her.  We  may  both  change  evah  so  much  by  the 
time  we  are  grown,  yet  if  I  live  to  be  a  hundred 
I'll  always  think  of  her  as  the  girl  who  was  so 
quarrelsome  that  the  English  lady  groaned,  *  Oh, 
those  dreadful  American  children ! '  And  I  sup- 
pose she'll  remembah  me  for  the  high  and 
mighty  way  I  tried  to  snub  her  whenevah  I  had  a 
chance." 

As  she  spoke  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
a  maid  brought  in  a  package  for  Lloyd.  "  Oh,  look, 
girls ! "  she  exclaimed,  holding  up  a  tiny  pair  of 
silver  embroidery  scissors,  Fidelia's  parting  gift. 
They  were  evidently  something  that  had  been  given 
her,  for  the  little  silver  sheath  into  which  they  were 
thrust  was  beautifully  engraved  in  old  English 
letters  with  the  name  "Fidelia"  Around  them  was 
wrapped  a  strip  of  rumpled  paper  on  which  was 
scrawled  :  "  For  you  to  remember  me  by.  That  day 


ON  TtiE    WING  151 

you  took  me  to  the  Gate  of  the  Giant  Scissors  was 
the  best  time  I  ever  had." 

"  Poor  little  thing !  "  exclaimed  Betty.  "  To  think 
that  she  was  afraid  to  go  in,  for  fear  that  she  didn't 
belong  to  the  kingdom,  and  that  the  scissors  might 
leap  down  and  drive  her  back." 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  only  known ! "  sighed  Lloyd,  re- 
morsefully. "  I  feel  too  mean  for  anything !  If  I'd 
only  believed  that  it  was  because  she  hadn't  been 
brought  up  to  know  any  bettah  that  she  acted  so 
horrid,  and  that  all  the  time  she  really  wanted  to  be 
liked!  Mothah  told  me  I  ought  to  put  myself  in 
her  place,  and  make  allowances  for  her,  but  I  didn't 
want  to  even  try,  and  I  nevah  was  nice  to  her  but 
once  —  that  time  I  gave  her  the  candy.  Then  I  was 
only  pretendin'  I  cared  for  her,  just  for  fun.  I  didn't 
want  her  to  go  with  us  to  the  Scissahs  gate  that  day. 
Mothah  made  me  invite  her.  I  fussed  about  it.  I'm 
goin'  to  write  to  her  the  minute  I  finish  polishin'  my 
nails,  and  tell  her  how  sorry  I  am  that  I  didn't  leave 
a  kindah  memory  behind  me." 

They  rubbed  away  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes, 
then  Lloyd  spoke  again.  "  I  suahly  have  enough 
things  now  to  remind  me  about  the  memory  roads 
I  am  tryin'  to  leave  behind  me  for  everybody.  Every 
time  I  look  at  this  little  ring  it  says  <  A  Road  of  the 


152  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Loving  Heart.'  And  the  scissahs  will  recall  the 
fairy  tale.  It  was  only  unselfish  service  that  kept 
them  bright  and  shining,  and  only  those  who  be- 
longed to  the  kingdom  of  loving  hearts  could  go  in 
at  the  gate.  Then  there's  the  Red  Cross  of  Geneva 
on  Hero's  collah  —  there  couldn't  be  a  moah  beauti- 
ful memory  than  the  one  left  by  all  who  have  wo'n 
that  Red  Cross." 

"Yes,"  said  Betty,  holding  up  a  hand  to  inspect 
the  pink  finger  nails  now  polished  to  her  satisfaction. 
"And  there  is  the  white  flower  that  the  two  little 
Knights  of  Kentucky  wear.  Keith  said  that  his  badge 
meant  the  same  thing  to  him  that  my  ring  does  to  me. 
Their  motto  is  '  Right  the  wrong.'  That's  what  the 
Giant  Scissors  always  did,  and  that's  what  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson  tried  to  do  for  the  Samoan  chiefs. 
That  is  why  they  loved  him  and  built  the  road." 

"Funny,  how  they  all  sing  the  same  song,"  said 
Eugenia.  "It's  just  the  same,  only  they  sing  it  in 
different  keys." 

After  Betty  and  Eugenia  had  gone  to  their  rooms, 
Lloyd  sat  a  long  time  toying  with  the  silver  scissors, 
before  writing  her  note  of  acknowledgment.  The 
sheath  was  of  hammered  silver,  and  around  the  name 
was  a  beautifully  wrought  design  of  tiny  clustered 
grapes. 


ON  THE    WING  1 53 

"  It  is  one  of  the  prettiest  things  that  my  wondah- 
ball  has  unrolled,"  she  said  to  herself,  "and  it  has 
certainly  taught  me  a  lesson.  Poah  little  Fidelia! 
If  I'd  only  known  that  she  cared,  there  were  lots  of 
times  that  she  could  have  gone  with  us,  and  it  would 
have  made  her  so  happy.  If  I  had  only  put  myself 
in  her  place  when  mothah  told  me !  But  I  was  so 
cross  and  hateful  I  enjoyed  bein'  selfish.  Now  all 
the  bein'  sorry  in  the  world  won't  change  things  !  " 

It  would  be  too  much  like  a  guide-book  if  this 
story  were  to  give  a  record  of  the  next  two  weeks. 
Betty's  good-times  book  was  filled,  down  to  the  last 
line  on  the  last  page,  and  the  partnership  diary  had 
to  have  several  extra  leaves  pasted  inside  the  cover. 
From  morning  until  night  there  was  a  constant  round 
of  sightseeing.  The  shops  and  streets  of  London 
first,  the  Abbey  and  the  Tower,  a  hundred  places 
that  they  had  read  about  and  longed  to  see,  and  after 
they  had  seen,  longed  to  come  back  to  for  another 
visit. 

"We  can  only  take  a  bird's-eye  view  now  and 
hurry  on,  but  we  must  certainly  come  back  some 
other  summer,"  said  Mr.  Sherman,  when  Lloyd 
wanted  to  linger  in  the  Tower  of  London  among  the 
armour  and  weapons  that  had  been  worn  by  the  old 
knights,  centuries  ago.  He  repeated  it  when  Betty 


154  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

looked  back  longingly  at  the  Poets'  Corner  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  where  the  great  organ  was  echoing 
down  the  solemn  aisles,  and  again  when  Eugenia 
begged  for  another  coach  ride  out  to  Hampton 

Court. 

" '  Gay  go  up  and  gay  go  down 

To  ring  the  bells  of  London  town," 

sang  the  Little  Colonel.  "  I  am  having  such  a  good 
time  that  I'd  like  to  stay  on  right  heah  all  the  rest 
of  the  summah." 

But  she  thought  that  about  nearly  every  other 
pla*ce  they  visited,  Windsor,  and  Warwick  Castle,  and 
Shakespeare's  birthplace,  —  the  quaint  little  village 
on  the  Avon  ;  Ambleside,  where  they  took  the  coach 
for  long  rides  among  the  lakes  made  famous  by  the 
poets  who  lived  among  them  and  made  them  immor- 
tal with  their  songs. 

From  these  English  lakes  to  Scottish  moors,  from 
the  land  of  hawthorne  to  the  land  of  heather,  from 
low  green  meadows  where  the  larks  sang,  to  the  high- 
lands where  plaided  shepherds  watched  their  flocks, 
they  went  with  enthusiasm  that  never  waned.  They 
found  the  "banks  and  braes  o'  Bonnie  Doon,"  and 
wandered  along  the  banks  of  more  than  one  little 
river  that  they  had  loved  for  years  in  song  and  story. 

"  Haven't  we  learned  a  lot !  "  exclaimed  Eugenia, 


ON' THE    WING  155 

as  they  journeyed  back  by  rail  to  Liverpool,  where 
the  Shermans  and  Betty  were  to  take  the  steamer. 
"  I'm  sure  that  I've  learned  ten  times  as  much  as  I 
would  in  school,  this  last  year." 

"And  had  such  a  lovely  time  in  the  bargain," 
added  Lloyd.  "It's  goin'  to  make  a  difference  in 
the  way  I  study  this  wintah,  and  in  what  I  read.  If 
we  evah  come  ovah  heah  again,  I  intend  to  know 
something  about  English  history.  Then  the  places 
we  visit  will  be  so  much  moah  interestin'.  I'll  not 
spend  so  much  time  on  fairy  tales  and  magazine  sto- 
ries. I'm  goin'  to  make  my  reading  count  for  some- 
thing aftah  this.  It  was  dreadfully  mawtifyin'  to 
find  out  that  I  was  so  ignorant,  and  how  much  there 
is  in  the  world  to  know,  that  I  had  nevah  even  heard 
of." 

That  afternoon,  in  the  big  Liverpool  hotel,  the 
trunks  were  packed  for  the  last  time. 

"  Seems  something  like  the  night  befo'  Christmas," 
said  the  Little  Colonel,  as  she  counted  the  packages 
piled  on  the  floor  beside  her  trunk.  They  were  the 
presents  that  she  had  chosen  for  the  friends  at  home- 

"  Nineteen,  twenty,"  she  went  on  counting,  "  and 
that  music  box  for  Mom  Beck  makes  twenty-one, 
and  the  souvenir  spoons  for  the  Walton  girls  make 
twenty-five.  Oh,  I  didn't  show  you  these,"  she  said. 


I$6  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"This  is  Allison's,"  she  explained,  opening  a  little 
box.  "  See  the  caldron  and  the  bells  on  the  handle  ? 
I  got  this  in  Denmark.  That's  from  Andersen's  tale 
of  the  swineherd's  magic  kettle,  you  know.  Kitty's 
is  from  Tarn  O'Shanter's  town.  That's  why  there  is 
a  witch  and  a  broomstick  engraved  on  it.  This  spoon 
for  Elise  came  from  Berne.  I  think  that's  a  darling 
little  bear's  head  on  the  handle.  What  did  you  get, 
Betty?"  she  continued,  turning  to  her  suddenly. 
"  You  haven't  shown  me  a  single  thing." 

Betty  laid  down  the  spoons  she  was  admiring. 
"You'll  not  think  they  are  worth  carrying  home," 
she  said,  slowly.  "  I  couldn't  buy  handsome  presents 
like  yours,  you  know,  so  I  just  picked  up  little  things 
here  and  there,  that  wouldn't  be  worth  anything  at 
all  if  they  hadn't  come  from  famous  places." 

"  Show  them  to  me,  anyhow,"  persisted  Lloyd. 

Betty  untied  a  small  box.  "  It's  only  a  handful  of 
lava,"  she  explained,  "  that  I  picked  up  on  Vesuvius. 
But  Davy  will  like  it  because  he  thinks  a  volcano  is 
such  a  wonderful  thing.  Here  are  some  pebbles  the 
boys  will  be  interested  in,  because  I  found  them  on 
the  field  of  Waterloo.  They  are  making  collections 
of  such  things,  and  Waterloo  is  a  long  way  from  the 
Cuckoo's  Nest.  They  haven't  any  foreign  things  a* 
all. 


ON  THE   WING  1$? 

"  I  wanted  to  take  something  nice  to  Miss  Allison, 
but  I  couldn't  afford  to  buy  anything  fine  enough. 
So  I  just  pressed  these  buttercups  that  grew  by  the 
gate  of  Anne  Hathaway 's  cottage.  See  how  sun- 
shiny and  satiny  they  are  ?  Cousin  Carl  gave  me  a 
photograph  of  the  cottage,  and  I  fastened  the  butter- 
cups here  on  the  side.  I  couldn't  offer  such  a  little 
gift  to  some  people,  but  Miss  Allison  is  the  kind  that 
appreciates  the  thought  that  prompts  a  gift  more 
than  the  thing  itself." 

There  were  a  few  more  photographs,  a  handker- 
chief for  Mom  Beck,  and  a  string  of  cheap  Venetian 
beads  for  May  Lily.  The  most  expensive  article  in 
the  collection  was  a  little  mosaic  pin  for  her  Cousin 
Hetty.  "  I  got  that  in  Venice,"  said  Betty.  "  Cousin 
Hetty  hasn't  a  single  piece  of  jewelry  to  her  name, 
and  she  never  gets  any  presents  but  plain,  useful 
things,  so  I  am  sure  she  will  be  pleased." 

Lloyd  turned  away,  thinking  of  the  great  contrast 
between  her  gifts  and  Betty's,  and  wishing  that  she 
had  not  made  such  a  display  of  hers. 

"  If  I  were  in  Betty's  place,"  she  said  to  herself, 
"  I'd  be  so  jealous  of  me  that  I  could  hardly  stand 
it.  She's  just  a  little  orphan  alone  in  the  world, 
and  I  have  mothah  and  Papa  Jack  and  Hero  and 
Tarbaby  for  my  very  own." 


1 58  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

But  the  Little  Colonel  need  not  have  wasted  any 
sympathy  on  Betty.  While  one  stowed  away  her 
expensive  presents  in  her  trunk,  the  other  wrapped 
up  her  little  souvenirs,  humming  softly  to  herself. 
It  would  have  been  hard  to  find  anywhere  in  the 
queen's  dominion,  a  happier  child  than  Betty,  as  she 
sat  beside  her  trunk,  thinking  of  the  beautiful 
journey  with  Cousin  Carl,  just  ending,  and  the  life 
awaiting  her  at  Locust  with  her  godmother  and  the 
Little  Colonel.  There  was  only  one  cloud  on  her 
horizon,  and  that  was  the  parting  with  Eugenia  and 
her  father. 

That  last  evening  they  spent  together  in  the  pri- 
vate parlour  adjoining  Mrs.  Sherman's  room.  Early 
after  dinner  Lloyd  and  her  father  went  down  to  pay 
a  visit  to  Hero,  and  see  that  he  was  properly  cared 
for.  He  had  had  a  hard  time  since  reaching  Eng- 
land, for  the  laws  regarding  the  quarantining  of 
dogs  are  strict,  and  it  had  taken  many  shillings  on 
Mr.  Sherman's  part  and  some  tears  on  the  Little 
Colonel's  to  procure  him  the  privileges  he  had. 

"  The  whole  party  will  be  glad  when  he  is  safely 
landed  in  Kentucky,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman, 
as  the  door  closed  after  them.  "  I'd  never  consent 
to  take  another  dog  on  such  a  journey,  after  all  the 
trouble  and  expense  this  one  has  been.  Lloyd  is  so 


ON  THE    WING  1 59 

devoted  to  him  that  she  is  heartbroken  if  he  has  to 
be  tied  up  or  made  uncomfortable  in  any  way.  She'll 
probably  come  up-stairs  in  tears  to-night  because  he 
wants  to  follow  her,  and  must  be  kept  a  prisoner." 

While  they  waited  for  her  return,  Mrs.  Sherman 
drew  Eugenia  into  her  room  for  a  last  confidential 
talk,  and  Betty,  nestling  beside  Cousin  Carl  on  the 
sofa,  tried  to  thank  him  for  all  his  fatherly  kindness 
to  her  on  their  long  pilgrimage  together.  But  he 
would  not  let  her  put  her  gratitude  in  words.  His 
answer  was  the  same  that  it  had  been  that  last 
night  of  the  house  party,  when,  looking  down  the 
locust  avenue  gleaming  with  its  myriad  of  lights,  like 
some  road  to  the  City  of  the  Shining  Ones,  she  had 
cried  out :  "  Oh,  why  is  everybody  so  good  to  me  ?  " 

The  others  came  in  presently,  and  the  evening 
seemed  to  be  on  wings,  it  flew  so  swiftly,  as  they 
planned  for  another  summer  to  be  spent  at  Locust, 
when  Eugenia  should  come  home  from  her  year  in 
the  Paris  school  And  never,  it  seemed,  were  good 
nights  followed  so  quickly  by  good  mornings,  or  good 
mornings  by  good-byes. 

Almost  before  they  realised  that  the  parting  time 
had  actually  come,  the  Little  Colonel  and  Betty  were 
leaning  over  the  railing  of  the  great  steamer,  waving 
their  handkerchiefs  to  Eugenia  and  her  father  on  the 


I6O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

dock.  Smaller  and  smaller  grew  the  familiar  out- 
lines, wider  and  wider  the  distance  between  the  ship 
and  the  shore,  until  at  last  even  Eugenia's  red  jacket 
faded  into  a  mere  speck,  and  it  was  no  longer  of  any 
use  to  wave  good-bye. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

HOMEWARD    BOUND 

ON  that  long,  homeward  journey  it  was  well  for 
Hero  that  he  wore  the  Red  Cross  on  his  collar.  The 
little  symbol  was  the  open  sesame  to  many  a  privilege 
that  ordinary  dogs  are  not  allowed  on  shipboard.  In- 
stead of  being  confined  to  the  hold,  he  was  given  the 
liberty  of  the  ship,  and  when  his  story  was  known  he 
received  as  much  flattering  attention  as  if  he  had 
been  some  titled  nobleman. 

The  captain  shook  the  big  white  paw,  gravely  put 
into  his  hand  at  the  Little  Colonel's  bidding,  and 
then  stooped  to  stroke  the  dog's  head.  As  he  looked 
into  the  wistful,  intelligent  eyes  his  own  grew  tender. 

"I  have  a  son  in  the  service,"  he  said,  "sent  back 
from  South  Africa,  covered  with  scars.  I  know 
what  that  Red  Cross  meant  to  him  for  a  good  many 
long  weeks.  Go  where  you  like,  old  fellow !  The 
ship  is  yours,  so  long  as  you  make  no  trouble." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  cried  the  Little  Colonel,  look- 
ing up  at  the  big  British  captain  with  a  beaming 
161 


1 62  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

face.  "I'd  rathah  be  tied  up  myself  than  to  have 
Hero  kept  down  there  in  the  hold.  I'm  suah  he'll 
not  bothah  anybody." 

Nor  did  he.  No  one  from  stoker  to  deck  steward 
could  make  the  slightest  complaint  against  him,  so 
dignified  and  well  behaved  was  he.  Lloyd  was 
proud  of  him  and  his  devotion.  Wherever  she  went 
he  followed  her,  lying  at  her  feet  when  she  sat  in 
her  steamer-chair,  walking  close  beside  her  when  she 
and  Betty  promenaded  the  deck. 

Everybody  stopped  to  speak  to  him,  and  to  ques- 
tion Lloyd  and  Betty  about  him,  so  that  it  was  not 
many  days  before  the  little  girls  and  the  great  St. 
Bernard  had  made  friends  of  all  the  passengers  who 
were  able  to  be  on  deck. 

The  hours  are  long  at  sea,  and  people  gladly  wel- 
come anything  that  provides  entertainment,  so  Lloyd 
and  Betty  were  often  called  aside  as  they  walked, 
and  invited  to  join  some  group,  and  tell  to  a  knot  of 
interested  listeners  all  they  knew  of  Hero  and  the 
Major,  and  the  training  of  the  German  ambulance 
dogs. 

In  return  Lloyd's  stories  nearly  always  called  forth 
some  anecdote  from  her  listeners  about  the  Red 
Cross  work  in  America,  and  to  her  great  surprise  she 
found  five  persons  among  them  who  had  met  Clara 


HOME  WARD  BOUND  1 63 

Barton  in  some  great  national  calamity  of  fire,  flood, 
or  pestilence. 

One  was  a  portly  man  with  a  gruff  voice,  who  had 
passed  through  the  experiences  of  the  forest  fires 
that  swept  through  Michigan,  over  twenty  years  ago. 
As  he  told  his  story,  he  made  the  scenes  so  real  that 
the  children  forgot  where  they  were.  They  could 
almost  smell  the  thick,  stifling  smoke  of  the  burning 
forest,  hear  the  terrible  crackling  of  the  flames,  feel 
the  scorching  heat  in  their  faces,  and  see  the  fright- 
ened cattle  driven  into  the  lakes  and  streams  by  the 
pursuing  fire. 

They  listened  with  startled  eyes  as  he  described 
the  wall  of  flame,  hemming  in  the  peaceful  home 
where  his  little  son  played  around  the  door-step. 
They  held  their  breath  while  he  told  of  their  mad 
flight  from  it,  when,  lashing  his  horses  into  a  gallop, 
he  looked  back  to  see  it  licking  up  everything  in  the 
world  he  held  dear  except  the  frightened  little  family 
huddled  at  his  feet.  He  had  worked  hard  to  build 
the  cottage.  It  was  furnished  with  family  heirlooms 
brought  West  with  them  from  the  old  homestead  in 
Vermont.  It  was  hard  to  see  those  great  red  tongues 
devouring  it  in  a  mouthful. 

In  the  morning,  although  they  had  reached  a 
place  of  safety,  they  were  out  in  a  charred,  blackened 


164  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

wilderness,  without  a  roof  to  shelter  them,  a  chair  to 
sit  on,  or  a  crust  to  eat.  "The  hardest  thing  to 
bear,"  he  said,  "was  to  hear  my  little  three-year-old 
Bertie  begging  for  his  breakfast,  and  to  know  that 
there  was  nothing  within  miles  of  us  to  satisfy  his 
hunger,  and  that  the  next  day  it  would  be  the  same, 
and  the  next,  and  the  next. 

"  We  were  powerless  to  help  ourselves.  But  while 
we  sat  there  in  utter  despair,  a  neighbour  rode  by 
and  hailed  us.  He  told  us  that  Red  Cross  commit- 
tees had  started  out  from  Milwaukee  and  Chicago  at 
first  tidings  of  the  fire,  with  car-loads  of  supplies, 
and  that  if  we  could  go  to  the  place  where  they  were 
distributing  we  could  get  whatever  we  needed. 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  what  they  were  hand- 
ing out  when  we  got  there :  tools  and  lumber  to  put 
up  cabins,  food  and  beds  and  clothes  and  coal-oil. 
They'd  thought  of  everything  and  provided  every- 
thing, and  they  went  about  the  distributing  in  a 
systematic,  businesslike  way  that  somehow  put  heart 
and  cheer  into  us  all. 

"  They  didn't  make  us  feel  as  if  they  were  hand- 
ing out  alms  to  paupers,  but  as  if  they  were  helping 
some  of  their  own  family  on  to  their  feet  again,  and 
putting  them  in  shape  to  help  themselves.  Even  my 
little  Bertie  felt  it.  Young  as  he  was,  he  never  for- 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  l6$ 

got  that  awful  night  when  we  fled  from  the  fire,  nor 
the  hungry  day  that  followed,  nor  the  fact  that  the 
arm  that  carried  him  food,  when  he  got  it  at  last, 
wore  a  brassard  marked  like  that."  He  touched  the 
Red  Cross  on  Hero's  collar. 

"And  when  the  chance  came  to  show  the  same 
brotherly  spirit  to  some  one  else  in  trouble  and  pass 
the  help  along,  he  was  as  ready  as  the  rest  of  us  to 
do  his  share. 

"Three  years  afterward  I  read  in  the  papers  of 
the  floods  that  had  swept  through  the  Ohio  and  Mis- 
sissippi valleys,  and  of  the  thousands  that  were  home- 
less. Bertie,  —  he  was  six  then,  —  he  listened  to  the 
account  of  the  children  walking  the  streets,  crying 
because  they  hadn't  a  roof  over  them  or  anything  to 
eat.  He  didn't  say  a  word,  but  he  climbed  up  to  the 
mantel  and  took  down  his  little  red  savings-bank. 

"  We  were  pretty  near  on  our  feet  again  by  that 
time,  although  we  were  still  living  in  a  cabin.  The 
crops  had  been  good,  and  we  had  been  able  to  save  a 
little.  He  poured  out  all  the  pennies  and  nickels  in 
his  bank,  —  ninety-three  cents  they  came  to,  —  and 
then  he  got  his  only  store  toy,  a  box  of  tin  soldiers 
that  had  been  sent  to  him  Christmas,  and  put  that 
on  the  table  beside  the  money.  We  didn't  appear  to 
notice  what  he  was  doing.  Presently  he  brought  the 


1 66  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

mittens  his  grandmother  up  in  Vermont  had  knit  for 
him.  Then  he  waited  a  bit,  and  seemed  to  be  weigh- 
ing something  in  his  mind.  By  and  by  he  slipped 
away  to  the  chest  where  his  Sunday  clothes  were 
kept  and  took  them  out,  new  suit,  shoes,  cap  and  all, 
and  laid  them  on  the  table  with  the  money  and  the 
tin  soldiers. 

"'There,  daddy,'  he  said,  'tell  the  Red  Cross 
people  to  send  them  to  some  little  boy  like  me,  that's 
been  washed  out  of  his  home  and  hasn't  anything  of 
toys  left,  or  his  clothes.' 

"  I  tell  you  it  made  a  lump  come  up  in  my  throat 
to  see  that  the  little  fellow  had  taken  his  very  best 
to  pay  his  debt  of  gratitude.  Nothing  was  too  great 
for  him  to  sacrifice.  Even  his  tin  soldiers  went 
when  he  remembered  what  the  Red  Cross  had  done 
for  him." 

"My  experience  with  the  Red  Cross  was  in  the 
Mississippi  floods  of  '82,"  said  a  gentleman  who  had 
joined  the  party.  "  One  winter  day  we  were  at- 
tracted by  screams  out  in  the  river,  and  found  that 
they  came  from  some  people  who  were  floating  down 
on  a  house  that  had  been  washed  away.  There  they 
were,  that  freezing  weather,  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
river,  their  clothes  frozen  on  them,  ill  from  fright  and 
exposure.  I  went  out  in  one  of  the  boats  that  was 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  167 

sent  to  their  rescue,  and  helped  bring  them  to  shore. 
I  was  so  impressed  by  the  tales  of  suffering  they  told 
that  I  went  up  the  river  to  investigate. 

"  At  every  town,  and  nearly  every  steamboat  land- 
ing, I  found  men  from  the  relief  committees  already 
at  work,  distributing  supplies.  They  didn't  stop 
when  they  had  provided  food  and  clothing.  They 
furnished  seed  by  the  car-load  to  the  farmers,  just  as 
in  the  Galveston  disaster,  a  few  years  ago,  they  fur- 
nished thousands  of  strawberry  plants  to  the  people 
who  were  wholly  dependent  on  their  crops  for  their 
next  year's  food." 

"Where  did  they  get  all  those  stores?"  asked 
Lloyd.  "  And  the  seeds  and  the  strawberry  plants  ? " 

"  Most  of  it  was  donated,"  answered  the  gentleman. 
"  Many  contributions  come  pouring  in  after  such  a 
disaster,  just  as  little  Bertie's  did.  But  the  society 
is  busy  all  the  time,  collecting  and  storing  away  the 
things  that  may  be  needed  at  a  moment's  notice. 
People  would  contribute,  of  course,  even  if  there 
were  no  society  to  take  charge  of  their  donations,  but 
without  its  wise  hands  to  distribute,  much  would  be 
lost. 

"  A  number  of  years  ago  a  physician  in  Bedford, 
Indiana,  gave  a  tract  of  land  to  the  American  Na- 
tional Red  Cross ;  more  than  a  square  mile,  I  believe, 


1 68  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

a  beautiful  farm  with  buildings  and  fruit-trees,  a 
place  where  material  can  be  accumulated  and  stored. 
By  the  terms  of  the  treaty  of  Geneva,  forty  nations 
are  pledged  to  hold  it  sacred  for  ever  against  all  in- 
vading armies,  to  the  use  of  the  Red  Cross.  It  is  the 
only  spot  on  earth  pledged  to  perpetual  peace." 

It  was  from  a  sad-faced  lady  in  black,  who  had  had 
two  sons  drowned  in  the  Johnstown  flood,  that  Lloyd 
and  Betty  heard  the  description  of  Clara  Barton's  five 
months'  labour  there.  A  doctor's  wife  who  had  been 
in  the  Mt.  Vernon  cyclone,  and  a  newspaper  man 
who  had  visited  the  South  Carolina  islands  after  the 
tidal  wave,  and  Charleston  after  the  earthquake, 
piled  up  their  accounts  of  those  scenes  of  suffering, 
some  of  them  even  greater  than  the  horrors  of  war, 
so  that  Lloyd  could  not  sleep  that  night,  for  thinking 
of  them. 

"Betty,"  she  whispered,  across  the  stateroom, 
turning  over  in  her  berth.  "  Betty,  are  you  awake  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Do  you  want  anything  ?  " 

"  I  can't  sleep.  That's  all.  Every  time  I  shut  my 
eyes  I  see  all  those  awful  things  they  told  about : 
cities  in  ruins,  and  dead  people  lying  around  in  piles, 
and  the  yellow  fevah  camps,  and  floods  and  fiah.  It 
is  a  dreadful  world,  Betty.  No  one  knows  what 
awful  thing  is  goin'  to  happen  next." 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  169 

"Don't  think  about  the  dreadful  part,"  urged 
Betty.  "  Think  of  the  funny  things  Mrs.  Brown 
told,  of  the  time  the  levee  broke  at  Shawneetown. 
The  table  all  set  for  supper,  and  the  water  pouring 
in  until  the  table  floated  up  to  the' ceiling,  and  went 
bobbing  around  like  a  fish." 

"That  doesn't  help  any,"  said  Lloyd,  after  a  mo- 
ment. "  I  see  the  watah  crawlin'  highah  and  highah 
up  the  walls,  above  the  piano  and  pictuahs,  till  I  feel 
as  if  it  is  crawlin'  aftah  me,  and  will  be  all  ovah  the 
bed  in  a  minute.  Did  you  evah  think  how  solemn  it 
is,  Betty  Lewis,  to  be  away  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
ocean,  with  nothing  but  a  few  planks  between  us  and 
drownin'  ?  Seems  to  me  the  ship  pitches  around 
moah  than  usual,  to-night,  and  the  engine  makes  a 
mighty  strange,  creakin'  noise." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  night  I  put  you  to  sleep  at 
the  Cuckoo's  Nest  ?  "  asked  Betty.  «  The  night  after 
you  fell  down  the  barn  stairs,  playing  barley-bright  ? 
Shut  your  eyes  and  let  me  try  it  again." 

It  was  no  nursery  legend  or  border  ballad  that 
Betty  crooned  this  time,  but  some  peaceful  lines  of 
the  old  Quaker  poet,  and  the  quiet  comfort  of  them 
stole  into  Lloyd's  throbbing  brain  and  soothed  her 
excited  fancy.  Long  after  Betty  was  asleep  she 
went  on  repeating  to  herself  the  last  lines : 


I7O  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  I  know  not  where  His  islands  lift 
Their  fronded  palms  in  air, 
I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 
Beyond  His  love  and  care." 

She  did  dream  of  fires  and  floods  that  night,  but 
the  horror  of  the  scenes  was  less,  because  a  baby 
voice  called  cheerfully  through  them,  "  Here,  daddy, 
give  these  to  the  poor  little  boys  that  are  cold  and 
homesick;"  and  a  great  St.  Bernard,  with  a  Red 
Cross  on  his  back,  ran  around  distributing  mittens 
and  tin  soldiers. 

"Now  that  we  are  half-way  across  the  ocean," 
said  Mrs.  Sherman,  next  morning,  "  I  may  give  you 
Allison  Walton's  letter.  She  enclosed  it  in  one  her 
mother  wrote,  and  asked  me  not  to  give  it  to  you 
until  we  were  in  mid-ocean.  I  suppose  her  expe- 
rience in  coming  over  from  Manila  taught  her  that 
letters  are  more  appreciated  then  than  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  voyage." 

The  Little  Colonel  unfolded  it,  exclaiming  in  sur- 
prise, "It  is  dated  «  The  Beeches'  I  thought  that  they 
were  in  Lloydsboro  Valley  all  summah,  in  the  cot- 
tage next  to  the  churchyard.  That  one  you  used  to 
like,"  she  added,  turning  to  Betty.  "  The  one  with 
the  high  green  roof  and  deah  little  diamond-shaped 
window-panes." 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  Ijl 

"  So  they  are  in  the  Valley,"  answered  her  mother. 
"  But  their  new  house  is  finished  now,  and  they  have 
moved  into  that.  As  they  have  left  all  the  beauti- 
ful beech  grove  standing  around  it,  they  have  de- 
cided to  call  the  place  The  Beeches,  as  ours  is  called 
Locust,  on  account  of  the  trees  in  front  of  it." 

Beckoning  to  Betty  to  come  and  listen,  Lloyd  sat 
down  to  read  the  letter,  and  Mrs.  Sherman  turned 
to  an  acquaintance  next  her.  "  It  is  General  Wal- 
ton's family  of  whom  we  were  speaking,"  she  ex- 
plained. "  Since  his  death  in  Manila  they  have  been 
living  in  Louisville,  until  recently.  We  are  so  de- 
lighted to  think  that  they  have  now  come  to  the 
Valley  to  live.  It  was  Mrs.  Walton's  home  in  her 
girlhood,  and  her  mother's  place,  Edgewood,  is  just 
across  the  avenue  from  The  Beeches.  Lloyd  and 
the  little  girls  are  the  best  of  friends,  and  we  are  all 
interested  in  Ranald,  the  only  son.  He  was  the 
youngest  captain  in  the  army,  you  know.  He  re- 
ceived his  appointment  and  was  under  fire  before  he 
was  twelve  years  old." 

"  Oh,  mothah,"  spoke  up  Lloyd,  so  eagerly  that 
she  did  not  notice  that  she  had  interrupted  the  con- 
versation. "  Listen  to  this,  please.  You  know  I 
wrote  to  Allison  about  Hero,  and  this  lettah  is  neahly 
all  about  him.  She  said  her  fathah  knew  Clara  Bar- 


172  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

ton,  and  that  in  Cuba  and  Manila  the  games  and 
books  that  the  Red  Cross  sent  to  the  hospitals  were 
appreciated  by  the  soldiahs  almost  as  much  as  the 
delicacies.  And  she  says  her  mothah  thinks  it 
would  be  fine  for  us  all  to  start  a  fund  for  the  Red 
Cross.  They  wanted  to  get  up  a  play  because  they're 
always  havin'  tableaux  and  such  things. 

"They've  been  readin'  'Little  Women'  again,  and 
Jo's  Christmas  play  made  them  want  to  do  some- 
thing like  that.  They  can  have  all  the  shields  and 
knights'  costumes  that  the  Maclntyre  boys  had 
when  they  gave  Jonesy's  benefit.  They  were  going 
to  have  an  entahtainment  last  week,  but  couldn't 
agree.  Allison  wanted  to  play  '  Cinda'ella,'  because 
there  are  such  pretty  costumes  in  that,  but  Kitty 
wanted  to  make  up  one  all  about  witches  and  spooks 
and  robbah-dens,  and  call  it  '  The  One- Eyed  Ghost  of 
Cocklin  Tower.' 

"  She  wanted  to  be  the  ghost.  They've  decided 
to  wait  till  we  get  home  befo'  they  do  anything." 

"There's  your  opportunity,  Betty,"  said  Mrs.  Sher- 
man, turning  to  her  goddaughter  with  a  smile.  "  Why 
can't  you  distinguish  yourself  by  writing  a  play  that 
will  make  us  all  proud  of  you,  and  at  the  same  time 
swell  the  funds  of  the  Red  Cross  ? " 

"Oh,  do   you   really  think   I   could,  godmother? 


HOMEWARD   BOUND  173 

Are  you  in  earnest  ? "  cried  Betty,  her  face  shining 
with  pleasure. 

"Entirely  so,"  answered  Mrs.  Sherman,  running 
her  hand  caressingly  over  Betty's  brown  hair.  "  This 
little  curly  head  is  full  of  all  sorts  of  tales  of  goblins 
and  ogres  and  witches  and  fairy  folk.  String  them 
together,  dear,  in  some  sort  of  shape,  and  I'll  help 
with  the  costumes." 

The  suggestion  was  made  playfully,  but  Betty 
looked  dreamily  out  to  sea,  her  face  radiant.  The 
longing  to  do  something  to  please  her  godmother 
and  make  her  proud  of  her  was  the  first  impulse  that 
thrilled  her,  but  as  she  began  to  search  her  brain  for 
a  plot,  the  joy  of  the  work  itself  made  her  forget 
everything  else,  even  the  passing  of  time.  She  was 
amazed  when  Lloyd  called  to  her  that  they  were 
going  down  to  lunch.  She  had  sat  the  entire  morn- 
ing wrapped  in  her  steamer-rug,  looking  out  across 
the  water  with  far-seeing  eyes.  As  the  blue  waves 
rose  and  fell,  her  thoughts  had  risen  and  swayed  to 
their  rhythmic  motion,  and  begun  to  shape  them- 
selves into  rhyme.  Line  after  line  was  taking  form, 
and  she  wished  impatiently  that  Lloyd  had  not 
called  her.  How  could  one  be  hungry  when  some 
inward  power,  past  understanding,  was  making  music 
in  one's  soul  ? 


1/4  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

She  followed  Lloyd  down  to  the  table  like  one  in 
a  trance,  but  the  spell  was  broken  for  awhile  by 
Lloyd's  persistent  chatter. 

"  You  know  there's  all  sort  of  things  you  could 
have,"  she  suggested,  "if  you  wanted  to  use  them 
in  the  piece.  Tarbaby  and  the  Filipino  pony,  and 
we  could  even  borrow  the  beah  from  Fairchance  if 
you  wanted  anything  like  Beauty  and  the  Beast.  We 
had  that  once  though,  at  Jonesy's  benefit,  so  maybe 
you  wouldn't  want  to  use  it  again." 

"There's  to  be  a  knight  in  it,"  answered  Betty, 
"and  he'll  be  mounted  in  one  scene.  So  we  may 
need  one  of  the  ponies."  Then  she  turned  to  her 
godmother.  "  Do  you  suppose  there  is  a  spinning- 
wheel  anywhere  in  the  neighbourhood  that  we  could 
borrow  ? " 

"Yes,  I  have  one  of  my  great-grandmother's 
stored  away  in  the  trunk-room.  You  may  have 
that." 

The  Little  Colonel  shrugged  her  shoulders  impa- 
tiently. "Oh,  I  can't  wait  to  know  what  you're 
goin'  to  do  with  a  spinnin'-wheel  in  the  play.  Tell 
me  now,  Betty." 

But  the  little  playwright  only  shook  her  head. 
"  I'm  not  sure  myself  yet.  But  I  keep  thinking  of 
the  humming  of  the  wheel,  and  a  sort  of  spinning- 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  1/5 

song  keeps  running  through  my  head.  I  thought, 
too,  it  would  help  to  make  a  pretty  scene." 

"  You're  goin'  to  put  Hero  in  it,  aren't  you  ? " 
was  the  Little  Colonel's  question. 

"Oh,  Lloyd!  I  can't,"  cried  Betty,  in  dismay.  "A 
dog  couldn't  have  a  part  with  princes  and  witches 
and  fairies." 

"  I  don't  see  why  not,"  persisted  Lloyd.  "  I  sha'n't 
take  half  the  interest  if  he  isn't  in  it.  I  think  you 
might  put  him  in,  Betty,"  she  urged.  "I'd  do  as 
much  for  you,  if  it  was  something  you  had  set  your 
heart  on.  Please,  Betty  !  "  she  begged. 

"But  he  won't  fit  anywhere!"  said  Betty,  in  a 
distressed  tone.  "  I'd  put  him  in,  gladly,  if  he'd 
only  go,  but,  don't  you  see,  Lloyd,  he  isn't  appro- 
priate. It  would  spoil  the  whole  thing  to  drag  him 
in." 

"  I  don't  see  why,"  said  Lloyd,  a  trifle  sharply. 
"  Isn't  it  going  to  be  a  Red  Cross  entahtainment,  and 
isn't  Hero  a  Red  Cross  dog  ?  I  think  it's  very  ap- 
propriate for  him  to  have  a  part,  even  one  of  the 
principal  ones." 

"  I  can't  think  of  a  single  thing  for  him  to  do  —  " 
began  Betty. 

"You  can  if  you  try  hard  enough,"  insisted 
Lloyd. 


176  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Betty  sighed  hopelessly,  and  turned  to  her  lunch 
in  silence.  She  wanted  to  please  the  Little  Colonel, 
but  it  seemed  impossible  to  her  to  give  Hero  a  part 
without  spoiling  the  entertainment. 

"  Maybe  some  of  the  books  in  the  ship's  library 
might  help  you,"  said  Mr.  Sherman,  who  had  been 
an  amused  listener.  "  I'll  look  over  some  of  them 
for  you." 

Later  in  the  day  he  came  up  to  Betty  where  she 
stood  leaning  against  the  deck  railing.  He  laid  a 
book  upon  it,  open  at  a  picture  of  seven  white  swans. 
"  Do  you  remember  this  ? "  he  asked.  "  The  seven 
brothers  who  were  changed  to  swans,  and  the  good 
sister  who  wove  a  coat  for  each  one  out  of  flax  she 
spun  from  the  churchyard  nettles?  The  magic 
coats  gave  them  back  their  human  forms.  Maybe 
you  can  use  the  same  idea,  and  have  your  prince 
changed  into  a  dog  for  awhile." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  "  she  cried.  "  I'd  forgotten  that 
story.  I  am  sure  it  will  help." 

He  walked  away,  leaving  her  poring  over  the  pic- 
ture, but  presently,  as  he  paced  the  deck,  he  felt  her 
light  touch  on  his  arm,  and  turned  to  see  her  glowing 
little  face  looking  up  into  his. 

"  I've  got  it !  "  she  cried.  "  The  picture  made  me 
think  of  the  very  thing.  I  had  been  fumbling  with  a 


HOMEWARD  BOUND  Iff 

tangled  skein,  trying  to  find  a  place  to  begin  unwind- 
ing. Now  you  have  given  me  the  starting  thread, 
and  it  all  begins  to  smooth  out  beautifully.  I'm  go- 
ing for  pencil  and  paper  now,  to  write  it  all  down 
before  I  forget." 

That  pencil  and  note-book  were  her  constant  com- 
panions the  rest  ot  the  voyage.  Sometimes  Lloyd, 
coming  upon  her  suddenly,  would  hear  her  whispering 
a  list  of  rhymes  such  as  more,  core,  pour,  store, 
shore,  before,  or  creature,  teacher,  feature,  at  which 
they  would  both  laugh  and  Betty  exclaim,  hopelessly, 
"  I  can't  find  a  word  to  fit  that  place."  At  other 
times  Lloyd  passed  her  in  respectful  silence,  for  she 
knew  by  the  rapt  look  on  Betty's  face  that  the  mys- 
terious business  of  verse-making  was  proceeding  satis- 
factorily, and  she  dared  not  interrupt. 

The  day  they  sighted  land,  Lloyd  exclaimed :  "  Oh, 
I  can  hardly  wait  to  get  home !  I've  had  a  perfectly 
lovely  summah,  and  I've  enjoyed  every  mile  of  the 
journey,  but  the  closah  I  get  to  Locust  the  moah  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  very  nicest  thing  my  wondah- 
ball  can  unroll  (except  givin'  me  Hero,  of  co'se)  is 
the  goin'  back  home." 

"  Your  wonder-ball,"  repeated  Betty,  who  knew  the 
birthday  story.  "That  gives  me  an  idea.  The 
princess  shall  have  a  wonder-ball  in  the  play." 


1/8  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

Lloyd  laughed.  "I  believe  that's  all  you  think 
about  nowadays,  Betty.  Put  up  yoah  scribblin'  for 
awhile  and  come  and  watch  them  swing  the  trunks 
up  out  of  the  hold.  We're  almost  home,  Betty 
Lewis,  almost  home ! " 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HOME   AGAIN 

MEANWHILE  in  Lloydsboro  Valley  the  summer  had 
slipped  slowly  by.  Locust  seemed  strangely  quiet 
with  the  great  front  gates  locked,  and  never  any 
sound  of  wheels  or  voices  coming  down  the  avenue. 
Judge  Moore's  place  was  closed  also,  and  Tangle- 
wood,  just  across  the  way,  had  been  opened  only  a 
few  weeks  in  the  spring.  So  birds  and  squirrels 
held  undisputed  possession  of  that  part  of  the  Valley, 
and  the  grass  grew  long  and  the  vines  climbed  high, 
and  often  the  soft  whisper  of  the  leaves  was  the  only 
sound  to  be  heard. 

But  in  the  shady  beech  grove,  next  the  church- 
yard, and  across  the  avenue  from  Mrs.  Maclntyre's, 
the  noise  of  hammer  and  saw  and  trowel  had  gone  on 
unceasingly,  until  at  last  the  new  home  was  ready 
for  its  occupants.  The  family  did  not  have  far  to 
move  to  "  The  Beeches  " ;  only  over  the  stile  from 
the  quaint  green-roofed  cottage  next  door,  where  they 
had  spent  the  summer. 


ISO  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Allison,  Kitty,  and  Elise  climbed  back  and  forth 
over  the  stile,  their  arms  full  of  their  particular  treas- 
ures, which  they  could  not  trust  to  the  moving-vans. 
All  the  week  that  Betty  and  Lloyd  were  tossing  out 
on  the  ocean,  they  were  flitting  about  the  new  house, 
growing  accustomed  to  its  unfamiliar  corners.  By 
the  time  the  Majestic  steamed  into  the  New  York 
harbour,  they  were  as  much  at  home  in  their  new 
surroundings  as  if  they  had  always  lived  there.  The 
tent  was  pitched  on  the  lawn,  the  large  family  of 
dolls  was  brought  out  under  the  trees,  and  the 
games,  good  times,  and  camp-fire  cooking  went  on  as 
if  they  had  never  been  interrupted  for  an  instant  by 
the  topsy-turvy  work  of  moving. 

"  Whose  day  is  it  for  the  pony-cart  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Walton,  coming  out  on  the  steps  one  morning. 

"  It  was  mine,"  answered  Kitty,  speaking  up  from 
the  hammock,  where  she  swung,  half  in,  half  out, 
watching  a  colony  of  ants  crawling  along  the  ground 
underneath.  "  But  I  traded  my  turn  to  Elise,  for 
her  biggest  paper  boy  doll." 

"  And  I  traded  my  turn  to  Allison,  if  she  would 
let  me  use  all  the  purple  and  yellow  paint  I  want  in 
her  paint-box,  while  I  am  making  my  Princess 
Pansy's  ball  dress,"  said  Elise. 

Mrs.  Walton  smiled  at  the  transfer  of  rights.     The 


HOME  AGAIN  l8l 

little  girls  had  an  arrangement  by  which  they  took 
turns  in  using  the  cart  certain  days  in  the  week, 
when  Ranald  did  not  want  to  ride  his  Filipino  pony. 

"  Whoever  has  it  to-day  may  do  an  errand  for  me," 
Mrs.  Walton  said,  adding,  as  she  turned  toward  the 
house,  "  Do  you  know  that  Lloyd  and  Betty  are 
coming  on  the  three  o'clock  train  this  afternoon  ? " 

"Then  I  don't  want  the  pony-cart,"  exclaimed 
Allison,  quickly.  "  I'm  going  down  to  the  depot  to 
meet  them." 

The  depot  was  in  sight  of  The  Beeches,  not  more 
than  three  minutes'  walk  distant. 

"  Can't  go  back  on  your  trade ! "  sang  out  Elise. 
"  Can't  go  back  on  your  trade  !  " 

"Oh,  you  take  it,  Elise,"  coaxed  Allison.  "It's 
my  regular  turn  to-morrow.  I'll  make  some  fudge 
in  the  morning,  if  you  will." 

Elise  considered  a  moment.  "Well,"  she  said, 
finally,  "  I'll  let  you  off  from  your  trade  if  Kitty  will 
let  me  off  from  mine." 

"No,  «>/"  answered  Kitty.  "A  trade's  a  trade. 
I  want  that  paper  boy  doll." 

"  But  it's  your  regular  turn,"  coaxed  Elise,  "  and 
I'd  much  rather  go  down  to  the  depot  to  meet  the 
girls  than  go  riding." 

"  So  would  I,"  said  Kitty,  spurring  the  procession 


1 82  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

of  ants  to  faster  speed  with  her  slipper  toe.  Then 
she  sat  up  and  considered  the  matter  a  moment. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  said,  presently,  "I  don't  care, 
after  all.  If  it  will  oblige  you  any  I'll  let  you  off, 
and  take  the  pony  myself." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sister,"  cried  Elise. 

"  They'll  only  be  at  the  depot  a  few  minutes,"  con- 
tinued the  wily  Kitty.  "  So  I'll  drive  down  to  meet 
them  in  style  in  the  cart,  and  then  I'll  go  up  to 
Locust  with  them,  beside  the  carriage,  and  hear  all 
about  the  trip  first  of  anybody." 

"  I  wish  I'd  thought  of  that,"  said  Elise,  a  shade 
of  disappointment  in  her  big  dark  eyes. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  proposed  Allison,  enthusiastically. 
"We'll  all  go  down  in  the  pony-cart  to  meet  them 
together.  That  would  be  the  nicest  way  to  do." 

"Oh!"  was  Kitty's  cool  reply,  "I  had  thought 
of  going  by  for  Katy  or  Corinne."  Then,  seeing  the 
disappointment  in  the  faces  opposite,  she  added, 
"  But  maybe  I  might  change  my  mind.  Have  you 
got  anything  to  trade  for  a  chance  to  go  ? " 

This  transfer  of  possessions  which  they  carried 
on  was  like  a  continuous  game,  of  which  they  never 
tired,  because  of  its  endless  variety.  It  was  a  source 
of  great  amusement  to  the  older  members  of  the 
family. 


HOME  AGAIN  183 

"  It  is  a  mystery  to  me,"  said  Miss  Allison,  "  how 
they  manage  to  keep  track  of  their  property,  and 
remember  who  is  the  owner.  I  have  known  a  doll 
or  a  dish  to  change  hands  half  a  dozen  times  in  the 
course  of  a  forenoon." 

Elise  promptly  offered  the  paper  boy  doll  again, 
which  was  promptly  accepted.  Allison  had  nothing 
to  offer  which  Kitty  considered  equivalent  to  a  seat 
in  the  cart,  but  by  a  roundabout  transfer  the  trade 
was  finally  made.  Allison  gave  Elise  the  amount  of 
purple  and  yellow  paint  she  needed  for  the  Princess 
Pansy's  ball  gown,  in  return  for  which  Elise  gave  her 
a  piece  of  spangled  gauze  which  Kitty  had  long  had 
an  eye  upon.  Allison  in  turn  handed  the  gauze  to 
Kitty  for  her  right  to  a  seat  in  the  pony-cart,  and 
the  affair  was  thus  happily  settled  to  the  satisfaction 
of  all  parties. 

"  It  isn't  that  we  are  selfish  with  each  other,"  Alli- 
son had  retorted,  indignantly,  one  day  when  Corinne 
remarked  that  she  didn't  see  how  sisters  who  loved 
each  other  could  be  so  particular  about  everything. 
"It's  only  with  our  toys  and  the  cart  that  we  do 
that  way.  It's  a  kind  of  game  that  we've  played 
always,  and  we  think  it's  lots  of  fun." 

So  it  happened  that  that  afternoon,  when  the  train 
stopped  at  Lloydsboro  Valley,  the  first  thing  the 


1 84  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Little  Colonel  saw  was  the  pony-cart  drawn  close  to 
the  platform.  Then  three  little  girls  in  white  dresses 
and  fresh  ribbons,  smiling  broadly  under  their  big 
flower-wreathed  hats,  sprang  out  to  give  them  a 
warm  welcome  home,  with  enthusiastic  hugs  and 
kisses. 

Hero's  turn  came  next.  Released  from  his  long, 
tiresome  confinement  in  the  baggage-car,  he  came 
bounding  into  their  midst,  almost  upsetting  the 
Little  Colonel  in  his  joy  at  having  his  freedom  again. 
He  put  out  his  great  paw  to  each  of  the  little  girls  in 
turn  as  Lloyd  bade  him  shake  hands  with  his  new 
neighbours,  but  he  growled  suspiciously  when  Walker 
came  up  and  laid  black  fingers  upon  him.  He  had 
never  seen  a  coloured  man  before. 

It  was  Betty's  first  meeting  with  the  Walton  girls. 
She  had  looked  forward  to  it  eagerly,  first  because 
they  were  the  daughters  of  a  man  whom  her  little 
hero-loving  heart  honoured  as  one  of  the  greatest 
generals  of  the  army,  who  had  given  his  life  to  his 
country,  and  died  bravely  in  its  service,  and  secondly 
because  Lloyd's  letters  the  winter  before  had  been 
full  of  their  sayings  and  doings.  Mrs.  Sherman,  too, 
had  told  her  many  things  of  their  life  in  Manila,  and 
she  felt  that  children  who  had  such  unusual  experi- 
ences could  not  fail  to  be  interesting.  There  was  a 


HOME  AGAIN  1 8$ 

third  reason,  however,  that  she  scanned  each  face  so 
closely.  She  had  given  them  parts  in  the  new  play, 
and  she  was  wondering  how  well  they  would  fit  those 
parts. 

They  in  turn  cast  many  inquiring  glances  at  Betty, 
for  they  had  heard  all  about  this  little  song-bird  that 
had  been  taken  away  from  the  Cuckoo's  Nest.  They 
had  read  her  poem  on  "  Night,"  which  was  published 
in  a  real  paper,  and  they  could  not  help  looking  upon 
her  with  a  deep  feeling  of  respect,  tinged  a  little  with 
awe,  that  a  twelve-year-old  girl  could  write  verses 
good  enough  to  be  published.  They  had  heard 
Keith's  enthusiastic  praises  of  her. 

"  Betty's  a  brick  !  "  he  had  said,  telling  of  several 
incidents  of  the  house  party,  especially  the  picnic  at 
the  old  mill,  when  she  had  gone  so  far  to  keep  her 
"sacred  promise."  "She's  the  very  nicest  girl  I 
know,"  he  had  added,  emphatically,  and  that  was 
high  praise,  coming  from  the  particular  Keith,  who 
judged  all  girls  by  the  standard  of  his  mother. 

As  soon  as  the  trunks  were  attended  to,  Mr.  Sher- 
man led  the  way  to  the  carriage,  waiting  on  the  other 
side  of  the  platform.  Hero  was  given  a  place  beside 
Walker,  and  although  he  sprang  up  obediently  when 
he  was  bidden,  he  eyed  his  companion  suspiciously 
all  the  way.  The  pony-cart  trundled  along  beside 


1 86  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

the  carriage,  the  girls  calling  back  and  forth  to  each 
other,  above  the  rattle  of  the  wheels. 

"  Oh,  isn't  Hero  the  loveliest  dog  that  ever  was  ! 
But  you  ought  to  see  our  puppy  —  the  cutest  thing 
—  nothing  but  a  bunch  of  soft,  woozy  curls."  .  .  . 
•"  We're  in  the  new  house  now,  you  must  come  over 
to-morrow."  .  .  .  "Mother  is  going  to  take  us  all 
camping  soon.  You  are  invited,  too."  This  from 
the  pony-cart  in  high-pitched  voices  in  different  keys. 

"  Oh,  I've  had  a  perfectly  lovely  time,  and  I've 
brought  you  all  something  in  my  trunk.  And  say, 
girls,  Betty  is  writing  a  play  for  the  Red  Cross  en- 
tertainment. There's  a  witch  in  it,  Kitty,  and  lots 
of  pretty  costumes,  Allison.  And,  oh,  deah,  I'm  so 
glad  to  get  home  I  don't  know  what  to  do  first !" 
This  from  the  carriage. 

The  great  entrance  gates  were  unlocked  now,  the 
lawn  smoothly  cut,  the  green  lace-work  of  vines 
trimly  trained  around  the  high  white  pillars  of  the 
porches.  The  pony-cart  turned  back  at  the  gate, 
and  the  carriage  drove  slowly  up  the  avenue  alone. 
The  mellow  sunlight  of  the  warm  September  after- 
noon filtered  down  like  gold,  through  the  trees  arch- 
ing overhead. 

" '  Oh,  the  sun  shines  bright  on  my  old  Kentucky 
home,' "  sang  Lloyd,  softly,  leaning  out  of  the  car- 


BETTY    SLOWLY    FOLLOWED    HER    GODMOTHER    UP    THE 
WIDE    STAIRS  " 


HOME  AGAIN  l8/ 

riage  to  wave  her  hand  to  Mom  Beck,  who,  in  whitest 
of  aprons  and  gayest  of  head  bandanas,  stood  smiling 
and  curtseying  on  the  steps.  The  good  old  black  face 
beamed  with  happiness  as  she  cried,  "  Heah  comes  my 
baby,  an'  liT  Miss  Betty,  too,  bless  her  soul  an'  body  ! " 

Around  the  house  came  May  Lily  and  a  tribe  of 
little  pickaninnies,  who  fell  back  at  sight  of  Hero 
leaping  out  of  the  carriage.  He  was  the  largest  dog 
they  had  ever  seen.  Lloyd  called  them  all  around 
her  and  made  them  each  shake  hands  with  the  aston- 
ished St.  Bernard,  who  did  not  seem  to  relish  this 
part  of  his  introduction  to  Kentucky. 

"  He'll  soon  get  used  to  you,"  said  the  Little  Col- 
onel. "  May  Lily,  you  run  tell  Aunt  Cindy  to  give 
you  a  cooky  or  a  piece  of  chicken  for  him  to  eat. 
Henry  Clay,  you  bring  a  pan  of  watah.  If  you  all 
fly  around  and  wait  on  him  right  good,  he'll  like  you 
lots  bettah." 

Leaving  Lloyd  to  offer  Hero  the  hospitality  of 
Locust  in  the  midst  of  her  little  black  admirers, 
Betty  slowly  followed  her  godmother  up  the  wide 
stairs. 

"You're  to  have  the  same  white  and  gold  room 
again,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  peeping  in  as  she 
passed  the  door.  "  I  see  that  it  is  all  in  readiness.  So 
walk  in  and  take  possession." 


1 88  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Betty  was  glad  that  she  was  alone,  those  first  few 
minutes,  the  joy  of  the  home-coming  was  so  keen. 
Going  in,  she  shut  the  door  and  gave  a  swift  glance 
all  around,  from  the  dark  polished  floor,  with  its  white 
angora  rugs,  to  the  filmy  white  curtains  at  the  open 
casement  windows.  Everything  was  just  as  she  had 
seen  it  last,  —  the  dear  little  white  dressing-table,  with 
its  crystal  candlesticks,  that  always  made  her  think 
of  twisted  icicles ;  the  little  heart-shaped  pincushion 
and  all  the  dainty  toilet  articles  of  ivory  and  gold ; 
the  pictures  on  the  wall ;  the  freshly  gathered 
plumes  of  goldenrod  in  the  crystal  bowl  on  the 
mantel.  She  stood  a  moment,  looking  out  of  the 
open  window,  and  thinking  of  the  year  that  had  gone 
by  since  she  last  stood  in  that  room.  Many  a  long 
and  perilous  mile  she  had  travelled,  but  here  she  was 
back  in  safety,  and  instead  of  bandaged  eyes  and  the 
horror  of  blindness  hovering  over  her,  she  was  able 
to  look  out  on  the  beautiful  world  with  strong,  far- 
seeing  sight. 

The  drudgery  of  the  Cuckoo's  Nest  was  far  be- 
hind her  now,  and  the  bare  little  room  under  the 
eaves.  Henceforth  this  was  to  be  her  home.  She 
remembered  the  day  in  the  church  when  her  god- 
mother's invitation  to  the  house  party  reached  her, 
and  just  as  she  had  knelt  then  in  front  of  the  narrow, 


HOME  AGAIN  189 

bench-like  altar,  she  knelt  now,  beside  the  little 
white  bed.  Now,  as  then,  the  late  afternoon  sun 
streamed  across  her  brown  curls  and  shining  face, 
and  "  Thank  you,  dear  God"  came  in  the  same  grate- 
ful whisper  from  the  depths  of  the  same  glad  little 
heart. 

"  Betty  !  Betty  ! "  called  Lloyd,  under  her  window. 
"Come  and  take  a  run  over  the  place.  I  want  to 
show  Hero  his  new  home." 

Tired  of  sitting  still  so  long  on  the  cars,  Betty 
was  glad  to  join  in  the  race  over  the  smooth  lawn  and 
green  meadows.  Out  in  the  pasture,  Tarbaby  waited 
by  the  bars.  The  grapevine  swing  in  the  mulberry- 
tree,  every  nook  and  corner  where  the  guests  of  the 
house  party  had  romped  and  played  the  summer  be- 
fore, seemed  to  hold  a  special  greeting  for  them,  and 
every  foot  of  ground  in  old  Locust  seemed  dearer 
for  their  long  absence. 

The  next  morning,  when  Tarbaby  was  led  around 
for  Lloyd  to  take  her  usual  ride,  both  girls  gave  a 
cry  of  delight,  for  another  pony  followed  close  at  his 
heels.  It  was  the  one  that  had  been  kept  for  Betty's 
use  during  the  house  party. 

"  It  is  Lad !  "  called  the  Little  Colonel,  excitedly. 
"Oh,  Papa  Jack!  Is  he  goin'  to  stay  heah  all  the 
time  ?  " 


190  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  Yes,  he  belongs  here  now,"  answered  Mr.  Sher- 
man. "I  want  both  my  little  girls  to  be  well 
mounted,  and  to  ride  every  day." 

He  motioned  to  a  card  hanging  from  Lad's  bridle, 
and,  leaning  over,  Lloyd  read  aloud,  "  For  Betty  from 
Papa  Jack." 

Betty  could  hardly  realise  her  good  fortune. 

"Is  he  really  mine?"  she  insisted,  "the  same  as 
Tarbaby  is  Lloyd's  ? " 

"Really  yours,  and  just  the  same,"  answered 
Mr.  Sherman,  holding  out  his  hand  to  help  her 
mount. 

She  tried  to  thank  him,  tried  to  tell  him  how 
happy  the  gift  had  made  her,  but  words  could  not 
measure  either  her  gratitude  or  her  pleasure.  He 
read  them  both,  however,  in  her  happy  face.  As  he 
swung  her  into  the  saddle,  she  leaned  forward,  saying, 
"  I  want  to  whisper  something  in  your  ear,  Mr.  Sher- 
man." As  he  bent  his  head  she  whispered,  "Thank 
you  for  writing  Papa  Jack  on  the  card.  That  made 
me  happier  than  anything  else." 

"That  is  what  I  want  you  to  call  me  always  now, 
my  little  daughter,"  he  answered,  kissing  her  lightly 
on  the  cheek.  "  Locust  is  your  home  now,  and  you 
belong  to  all  of  us.  Your  godmother,  the  Little 
Colonel,  and  I  each  claim  a  share." 


HOME   AGAIN  IQI 

"  What  makes  you  so  quiet  ? "  asked  Lloyd,  as 
they  rode  on  down  the  avenue. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  way  Joyce's  fairy  tale 
ended,"  said  Betty.  " «  So  the  prince  came  into  his 
kingdom,  the  kingdom  of  loving  hearts  and  gentle 
hands.'  Only  this  time  it's  the  princess  who's  come 
into  her  kingdom." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Lloyd,  with  a 
puzzled  look. 

"  Oh,  it's  only  some  of  my  foolishness,"  said 
Betty,  looking  back  over  her  shoulder  with  a  laugh. 
"  I'm  just  so  glad  that  I'm  alive,  and  so  glad  that  I 
am  me,  and  so  happy  because  everybody  is  so 
heavenly  kind  to  me,  that  I  wouldn't  change  places 
with  the  proudest  princess  that  ever  sat  on  a  throne." 

"  Then  come  on,  and  let's  race  to  the  post-office," 
cried  Lloyd,  dashing  off,  with  Hero  bounding  along 
beside  her. 

From  the  post-office  they  rode  to  The  Beeckes, 
where  Allison  was  cooking  something  over  the  camp- 
fire,  beside  the  tent  on  the  lawn. 

It  proved  to  be  candy,  and  she  waved  a  sticky 
spoon  in  welcome.  Mrs.  Walton  was  in  a  hammock, 
near  by,  her  mending  basket  beside  her,  and  Kitty 
and  Elise  on  the  grass  at  her  feet,  watching  the 
molasses  bubble  up  in  the  kettle.  Betty  felt  a  little 


192  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

shy  at  first,  for  this  was  her  first  meeting  with  the 
General's  wife,  and  she  wished  that  the  girls  would 
not  insist  on  having  an  immediate  outline  of  the 
play.  It  had  seemed  very  fine  indeed  to  her  when 
she  read  it  aloud  to  herself,  or  repeated  it  to  Lloyd. 
It  had  not  seemed  a  very  childish  thing  to  her  even 
when  she  read  it  to  her  godmother.  But  she  shrank 
from  Mrs.  Walton's  criticism.  It  was  with  many 
blushes  that  she  began.  Afterward  she  wondered 
why  she  should  have  been  timid  about  it.  Mrs. 
Walton  applauded  it  so  heartily,  and  entered  into 
plans  for  making  the  entertainment  a  success  as 
enthusiastically  as  any  of  the  girls. 

"  I  bid  to  be  witch  !  "  cried  Kitty,  when  Betty  had 
finished. 

"  I'd  like  to  be  the  queen,  if  you  don't  care,"  said 
Allison,  "for  I  am  the  largest,  and  I'd  rather  act 
with  Rob  than  the  other  boys.  But  it  doesn't  make 
any  difference.  I'll  be  anything  you  want  me  to." 

"That's  the  way  Betty  planned  it,"  said  Lloyd. 
"  I'm  to  be  the  captive  princess,  and  Keith  will  be 
my  brother  whom  the  witch  changes  into  a  dog. 
That's  Hero,  of  co'se.  Malcolm  will  be  the  knight 
who  rescues  me.  Rob  Moore  will  be  king,  and 
Elise  the  queen  of  the  fairies,  and  Ranald  the 


HOME   AGAIN  1 93 

"  Ranald  said  last  night  that  he  wouldn't  be  in  the 
play  if  he  had  to  learn  a  lot  of  foolishness  to  speak, 
or  if  he  couldn't  be  disguised  so  that  nobody  would 
know  him,"  said  Kitty.  "  Hell  help  any  other  way, 
fixing  the  stage  and  the  red  lights  and  all  that,  but 
the  Captain  has  a  dread  of  making  himself  appear 
ridiculous.  Now  /  don't.  I'd  rather  have  the  funny 
parts  than  the  high  and  mighty  ones." 

"  He  might  be  Frog-eye-Fearsome,"  suggested 
Betty.  "  Then  he  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  but 
drag  the  prince  and  princess  across  the  stage  to  the 
ogre's  tower,  and  the  costume  could  be  so  hideous 
that  no  one  could  tell  whether  a  human  or  a  hob- 
goblin was  inside  of  it." 

"  Who'll  buy  all  the  balloons  for  the  fairies,  and 
make  our  spangled  wings  ? "  asked  Elise.  "  Oh,  I 
know,"  she  cried,  instantly  answering  her  own  ques- 
tion. « I'll  tell  Aunt  Elise  all  about  it,  and  I  know 
that  she'll  help." 

"  How  will  you  go  all  the  way  to  the  seashore  to 
tell  her  ? "  asked  Kitty. 

"  She  isn't  at  the  seashore,"  answered  Elise,  with 
an  air  of  triumph.  "  She  came  back  from  Narragan- 
sett  Pier  last  night.  Didn't  she,  mamma  ?  And  she 
and  Malcolm  and  Keith  are  coming  out  to  grand- 
mother's this  afternoon  as  straight  as  the  train  can 


194  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

carry  them,  you  might  know.  They  always  do,  first 
thing.  Don't  they,  mamma  ?  " 

Mrs.  Walton  nodded  yes,  then  said :  "  Suppose 
you  bring  the  play  down  this  afternoon,  Betty.  Ask 
your  mother  to  come  too,  Lloyd,  and  we'll  read  it 
out  under  the  trees.  Now  are  all  the  characters 
decided  upon  ? " 

"All  but  the  ogre,"  said  Betty. 

"Joe  Clark  is  the  very  one  for  that,"  exclaimed 
Lloyd.  "He  is  head  and  shouldahs  tallah  than  all 
the  othah  boys,  although  he  is  only  fifteen,  and  his 
voice  is  so  deep  and  gruff  it  sounds  as  if  it  came  out 
of  the  cellah.  We  can  stop  and  ask  him  if  he'll  take 
the  part." 

"  Invite  him  to  come  down  to  the  reading  of  the 
play,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Walton.  "  I'll  look  for  you  all 
promptly  at  four." 

Betty  almost  lost  her  courage  that  afternoon  when 
she  saw  the  large  group  waiting  for  her  under  the 
beech-trees  on  Mrs.  Walton's  lawn.  Mrs.  Maclntyre 
was  there,  fresh  and  dainty  as  Betty  always  remem- 
bered her,  with  the  sunshine  flickering  softly  through 
the  leaves  on  her  beautiful  white  hair.  Miss  Allison, 
who,  in  the  children's  opinion,  knew  everything,  sat 
beside  her,  and  worst  of  all,  the  younger  Mrs.  Mac- 
lntyre was  there ;  Malcolm's  and  Keith's  mother, 


AGAIN  195 

whom  Betty  had  never  seen  before,  but  of  whom  she 
had  heard  glowing  descriptions  from  her  admiring  sons. 

Lloyd  pointed  her  out  to  Betty  as  they  drove  in  at 
the  gate.  "See,  there  she  is,  in  that  lovely  pink 
organdy.  Wouldn't  you  love  to  look  like  her?  I 
would.  She's  like  a  queen." 

Betty  sank  back,  faint  with  embarrassment.  "  Oh, 
godmother  !  "  she  whispered.  "  I  know  I  can't  read 
it  before  all  those  people.  It  will  choke  me.  There's 
at  least  a  dozen,  and  some  of  them  are  strangers." 

Mrs.  Sherman  smiled,  encouragingly.  "There's 
nothing  to  be  afraid  of,  dear.  Your  play  is  beautiful, 
in  my  opinion,  and  every  one  there  will  agree  with 
me  when  they've  all  heard  it.  Go  on  and  do  your 
best  and  make  us  all  proud  of  you." 

There  was  no  time  to  hesitate.  Keith  was  already 
swinging  on  the  carriage  steps  to  welcome  them, 
and  Malcolm  and  Ranald  were  bringing  out  more 
chairs  to  make  places  for  them  with  the  group 
under  the  beeches.  Nobody  mentioned  the  play  for 
some  time.  The  older  people  were  busy  questioning 
Mrs.  Sherman  about  her  summer  abroad,  and  Mal- 
colm and  Keith  had  much  to  tell  the  others  of  their 
vacation  at  the  seashore;  of  polo  and  parties  and 
ping-pong,  and  several  pranks  that  sent  the  children 
into  shrieks  of  laughter. 


196  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

In  the  midst  of  the  hum  of  conversation  Betty's 
heart  almost  stood  still.  Mrs.  Walton  was  calling 
the  company  to  order.  Coming  forward,  she  led 
Betty  to  a  chair  in  the  centre  of  the  circle,  and  asked 
her  to  begin.  It  was  with  hands  that  trembled  visi- 
bly that  Betty  opened  her  note-book  and  began  to 
read  "  The  Rescue  of  the  Princess  Winsome." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

"THE    RESCUE    OF   THE    PRINCESS   WINSOME** 

AN  ENTERTAINMENT  FOR  THE  BENEFIT 
OF  THE  RED  CROSS 

CHARACTERS 

King          ....  Rob  Moore. 

Queen         ....  Allison  Walton. 

Prince  Hero       .         .         .  Keith  Maclntyre. 

PRINCESS  WINSOME          .  Lloyd  Sherman. 

Knight        ....  Malcolm  Maclntyre. 

Ogre  ....  Joe  Clark. 

Witch         ....  Kitty  Walton. 

Godmother         .        .        .  Elizabeth  Lloyd  Lewis. 

Frog-eye  Fearsome     .         .  Ranald  Walton. 

Titania       ....  Elise  Walton. 

Bewitched  Prince       .        .  HERO,  THE  RED  CROSS  DOG. 

Chorus  of  Fairies. 

Morning-glory. 

Pansy. 

Rose. 
Flower  Messengers    .        .     •< 

Forget-me-not 

Poppy. 
^  Daisy. 

197 


198  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.  In  the  Witch's  Orchard.  Frog-eye  Fearsome 
drags  the  captive  Prince  and  Princess  to  the  Ogre's  tower. 
At  Ogre's  command  Witch  brews  spell  to  change  Prince  Hero 
into  a  dog. 

SCENE  II.  In  front  of  Witch's  Orchard.  King  and  Queen 
bewail  their  loss.  The  Godmother  of  Princess  promises  aid. 
The  Knight  starts  in  quest  of  the  South  Wind's  silver  flute 
with  which  to  summon  the  Fairies  to  his  help. 

ACT  II. 

SCENE  I.  In  the  Tower  Room.  PRINCESS  WINSOME  and 
HERO.  Godmother  brings  spinning-wheel  on  which  Princess 
is  to  spin  Love's  golden  thread  that  shall  rescue  her  brother. 
Dove  comes  with  letter  from  Knight.  Flower  messengers  in 
turn  report  his  progress.  Counting  the  Daisy's  petals  the 
Princess  learns  that  her  true  Knight  has  found  the  flute. 

ACT  III. 

SCENE  I.  In  Witch's  Orchard.  Knight  returns  from  quest. 
Blows  the  flute  and  summons  Titania  and  her  train.  They 
bind  the  Ogre  and  Witch  in  the  golden  thread  the  Princess 
spun.  Knight  demands  the  spell  that  binds  the  Prince  and 
plucks  the  seven  golden  plums  from  the  silver  apple-tree. 
Prince  becomes  a  prince  again,  and  King  gives  the  Knight  the 
hand  of  the  Princess  and  half  of  his  Kingdom.  Chorus  of 
Fairies. 


"THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS   WINSOME"    199 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.  Witch  bends  over  fire  in  middle  of  orchard,  brew- 
ing a  charm  in  her  caldron.  Ogre  stalks  in,  grinning 
frightfully,  swinging  his  bludgeon  in  triumph. 

Ogre.     Ha,  old  witch,  it  is  done  at  last! 
I  have  broken  the  King's  stronghold ! 
I  have  stolen  away  his  children  twain 
From  the  clutch  of  their  guardsmen  bold. 
I  have  dragged  them  here  to  my  castle  tower. 
Prince  Hero  is  strong  and  fair. 
But  he  and  his  sister  shall  rue  my  power, 
When  once  up  yon  winding  stair. 

Witch.     Now  why  didst  thou  plot  such  a  wicked  thing  ? 
The  children  no  harm  have  done. 

Ogre.     But  I  have  a  grudge  'gainst  their  father,  the  King, 
A  grudge  that  is  old  as  the  sun. 
And  hark  ye,  old  hag,  I  must  have  thy  aid 
Before  the  new  moon  be  risen. 
Now  brew  me  a  charm  in  thy  caldron  black, 
That  shall  keep  them  fast  in  their  prison  ! 

Witch.     I'll  brew  thee  no  charm,  thou  Ogre  dread! 
Knowest  thou  not  full  well 
The  Princess  thou  hast  stolen  away 
Is  guarded  by  Fairy  spell? 
Her  godmother  over  her  cradle  bent. 
"  O  Princess  Winsome,"  she  said, 
"  I  give  thee  this  gift :  thou  shalt  deftly  spin, 
As  thou  wishest,  Love's  golden  thread." 
So  I  dare  not  brew  thee  a  spell  'gainst  her. 
My  caldron  would  grow  acold 


2OO  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

And  never  again  would  bubble  up, 
If  touched  by  her  thread  of  gold. 

Ogre,     Then  give  me  a  charm  to  bind  the  prince. 
Thou  canst  do  that  much  at  least. 
I'll  give  thee  more  gold  than  hands  can  hold, 
If  thou'lt  change  him  into  some  beast. 

Witch.     I  have  need  of  gold  —  so  on  the  fire 
I'll  pile  my  fagots  higher  and  higher, 
And  in  the  bubbling  water  stir 
This  hank  of  hair,  this  patch  of  fur, 
This  feather  and  this  flapping  fin, 
This  claw,  this  bone,  this  dried  snake  skin ! 
Bubble  and  boil 
And  snake  skin  coil, 
This  charm  shall  all  plans 
But  the  Ogre's  foil. 

[As  Witch  stirs  and  sings,  the  Ogre,  stalking  to  the  side,  calls 
Ogrt.     Ho,  Frog-eye  Fearsome,  let  the  sport  begin ! 
Hence  to  the  tower !     Drag  the  captives  in ! 

[Frog-eye  Fearsome  drags  Prince  Hero  and  Princess   Winsome 
across   the   stage,  and  into   the  door  leading  up  the  tower 
stair.     They  are  bound  by  ropes.     Prince  tries  to  reach  his 
sword.     Princess  shrieks. 
Princess.     Oh,  save  us,  good,  wise  witch, 
In  pity,  save  us,  pray. 
The  King,  our  royal  father, 

Thy  goodness  will  repay.  [Pulls  back,  wringing  hand. 

Oh,  I  cannot,  cannot  mount  the  tower ! 
Oh,  save  us  from  the  bloody  Ogre's  power ! 

[  They  are  dragged  into  the  tower,  door  bangs  and  Ogre  locks  it  with 
key  a  yard  long.     Goes  back  to   Witch,  who  hands  him  vial 
filled  from  caldron  with  black  mixture. 
Witch.     Pour  drop  by  drop  upon  Prince  Hero's  tongue. 


"THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS   WINSOME"   2OI 

First  he  will  bark.     His  hands  and  feet 
Will  turn  to  paws,  and  he  will  seem  a  dog. 
Seven  drops  will  make  the  change  complete. 
The  poison  has  no  antidote  save  one, 
Arid  he  a  prince  again  can  never  be, 
Unless  seven  silver  plums  he  eats, 
Plucked  from  my  golden  apple-tree. 

Ogre.     Revenge  is  sweet, 
And  soon  'twill  be  complete  ! 
Then  to  my  den  I'll  haste  for  gold  to  delve. 
I'll  bring  it  at  the  black,  bleak  hour  of  twelve ! 

Witch.     And  I  upon  my  broomstick  now  must  fly 
To  woodland  tryst.     Come,  Horned  Owl 
And  Venomed  Toad  !     Now  play  the  spy  ! 
Let  no  one  through  my  orchard  prowl. 

[Exit  Witch  and  Ogre  to  dirge  music. 

SCENE  II.  Enter  King  and  Queen  weeping.  They  pace  up 
and  down,  wringing  hands,  and  showing  great  signs  of 
grief.  Godmother  enters  from  opposite  side.  King  speaks. 

King.     Good  dame,  Godmother  of  our  daughter  dear, 
Perhaps  thou'st  heard  our  tale  of  woe. 
Our  children  twain  are  stolen  away 
By  Ogre  Grim,  mine  ancient  foe. 

All  up  and  down  the  land  we've  sought 
For  help  to  break  into  his  tower. 
And  now,  our  searching  all  for  nought, 
We've  come  to  beg  the  Witch's  power. 

[Godmother  spring's  forward,  finger  to  lip,  and  anxiously  "waves 

them  away  from  orchard. 

Godmother.     Nay  !  Nay  !  Your  Majesty,  go  not 
Within  that  orchard,  now  I  pray ! 


202  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

The  Witch  and  Ogre  are  in  league. 
They've  wrought  you  fearful  harm  this  day. 
She  brewed  a  draught  to  change  the  prince 
Into  a  dog !     Oh,  woe  is  me  ! 
I  passed  the  tower  and  heard  him  bark : 
Alack !     That  I  must  tell  it  thee  ! 

[Queen  shrieks  and  falls  back  in  the  King's  arms,  then  recovering 
falls  to  -wailing.  ' 

Queen.     My  noble  son  a  dog?    A  beast? 
It  cannot,  must  not,  shall  not  be  ! 
I'll  brave  the  Ogre  in  his  den, 
And  plead  upon  my  bended  knee ! 

Godmother.     Thou  couldst  not  touch  his  heart  of  stone. 
He'd  keep  thee  captive  in  his  lair. 
The  Princess  Winsome  can  alone 
Remove  the  cause  of  thy  despair. 
And  I  unto  the  tower  will  climb, 
And  ere  is  gone  the  sunset's  red, 
Shall  bid  her  spin  a  counter  charm  — 
A  skein  of  Love's  own  Golden  Thread. 
Take  heart,  O  mother  Queen !     Be  brave ! 
Take  heart,  O  gracious  King,  I  pray ! 
Well  can  she  spin  Love's  Golden  Thread, 
And  Love  can  always  find  a  way !  [Exit  Godmother. 

Queen.     She's  gone,  good  dame.     But  what  if  she 
Has  made  mistake,  and  thread  of  gold 
Is  not  enough  to  draw  our  son 
From  out  the  Ogre's  cruel  hold  ? 
Canst  think  of  nought,  your  Majesty  ? 
Of  nothing  else  ?     Must  we  stand  here 
And  powerless  lift  no  hand  to  speed 
The  rescue  of  our  children  dear  ? 

\King  clasps  hand  to  his  head  in  thought,  then  starts  forward. 


"  THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME  "   2O3 

King.     I  have  it  now  !     This  hour  I'll  send 
Swift  heralds  through  my  wide  domains, 
To  say  the  knight  who  rescues  them 
Shall  wed  the  Princess  for  his  pains. 

Queen.     Quick  !  Let  us  fly !     I  hear  the  sound  of  feet, 
As  if  some  horseman  were  approaching  nigher. 
'Twould  not  be  seemly  should  he  meet 
Our  royal  selves  so  ne#r  the  Witch's  fire. 

[  They  start  to  run,  but  are  met  by  Knight  on  horseback  in  centre  of 
stage.     He  dismounts  and  drops  to  one  knee. 

King.     'Tis  Feal  the  Faithful !     Rise,  Sir  Knight, 
And  tell  us  what  thou  doest  here  ! 

Knight.     O  Sire,  I  know  your  children's  plight. 
I  go  to  ease  your  royal  fear. 

Queen.     Now  if  thou  bringst  them  back  to  us, 
A  thousand  blessings  on  thy  head. 

King.     Ay,  half  my  kingdom  shall  be  thine. 
The  Princess  Winsome  thou  shalt  wed. 

Queen.     But  tell  us,  how  dost  thou  think  to  cope 
With  the  Ogre  so  dread  and  grim? 
What  is  the  charm  that  bids  thee  hope 
Thou  canst  rout  and  vanquish  him  ? 

Knight.     My  faithful  heart  is  my  only  charm, 
But  my  good  broadsword  is  keen, 
And  love  for  the  princess  nerves  my  arm 
With  the  strength  of  ten,  I  ween. 
Come  weal,  come  woe,  no  knight  can  fail 
Who  goes  at  Love's  behest. 
Long  ere  one  moon  shall  wax  and  wane, 
I  shall  be  back  from  my  quest. 
I  have  only  to  find  the  South  Wind's  flute. 
In  the  Land  of  Summer  it  lies. 
It  can  awaken  the  echoes  mute, 


2O4  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

With  answering  replies. 

And  it  can  summon  the  fairy  folk 

Who  never  have  said  me  nay. 

They'll  come  to  my  aid  at  the  flute's  clear  call 

Love  always  can  find  a  way. 

King.     Go,  Feal  the  Faithful.     It  is  well! 
Successful  mayst  thou  be, 
And  all  the  way  that  thou  dost  ride, 
Our  blessings  follow  thee.  [Curtain. 

ACT  II. 

SCENE.  Room  in  Ogre's  tower.    Princess  Winsome  kneeling 
with  arm  around  Dog's  neck. 

Princess.    Art  thou  my  brother?     Can  it  be 
That  thou  hast  taken  such  shape  ? 
Oh  turn  those  sad  eyes  not  on  me ! 
There  must  be  some  escape. 
And  yet  our  parents  think  us  dead. 
No  doubt  they  weep  this  very  hour, 
For  no  one  ever  has  escaped, 
Ere  this,  the  Ogre's  power. 

Oh  cruel  fate !     We  can  but  die ! 

Each  moment  seems  a  week. 

Is  there  no  hope  ?    Oh,  Hero  dear, 

If  thou  couldst  only  speak ! 

But  no  !     Within  this  tower  room 

We're  captive,  and  despair 

Must  settle  on  us.     'Tis  the  doom 

Of  all  dragged  up  yon  winding  stair. 

[DroJ>s  her  head  and  weeps.    Enter  Godmother,  who  waves  wand 
and  throwing  back  curtain,  displays  a  spinning-wheel. 


«•  THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME "    20$ 

Godmother.     Rise,  Princess  Winsome. 
Dry  your  weeping  eyes. 
The  way  of  escape 
Within  your  own  hand  lies. 

Waste  no  time  in  sorrow, 
Spin  and  sing  instead. 
Spin  for  thy  brother's  sake, 
A  skein  of  golden  thread. 

Question  not  the  future, 
Mourn  not  the  past, 
But  keep  thy  wheel  a-turning, 
Spinning  well  and  fast. 

All  the  world  helps  gladly 
Those  who  help  themselves, 
And  the  thread  thou  spinnest, 
Shall  be  woven  by  elves. 

All  good  things  shall  speed  thee! 

Thy  knight,  the  Faithful  Feal, 

Is  to  thy  rescue  riding. 

Up  !     To  thy  spinning-wheel !  {Disappears  behind  curtain 

Princess.     All  good  things  shall  speed  me  ? 
Sir  Knight,  the  Faithful  Feal, 

Is  to  my  rescue  riding?  \Injoyful  surprise. 

Turn,  turn,  my  spinning-wheel ! 
(She  sings.) 


206  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 


Spinning  Wheel  Song. 


I .  My        god-mother    bids  me  spin,  that  my  heart  may  not  be 


& 


THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS   WINSOME"     2O? 

Spinning  Wheel  Song.    Continued. 

!      _ELI 


spinning  makes  me      glad.  2.  Spin,     sing    with 


_^»=£z:3=ME 

— -m — -fc/  g     |/ 


Andante. 


1 


humming  whir,  the  wheel  goes  round  and  round.  For  my 


brother's  sake, the  charm  I'll  break, Prince  Hero  shall  be  found. 


**!— : 5ir 


****' 


-T-J        I — rT^  ^     i  i  ' — i 

£=^g^^fefi^ 


fl 


208  THE  LITTLE   COLONELS  HERO 

Spinning  Wheel  Song.    Concluded. 


SBE 


Spin,  sing.the  golden  thread,Gleams  in  the  sun's  bright  ray.The 


ET     ^p—3*—\±*   +•    -Jr*       -Jr*     ^r^    Vw 


humming  wheel  my  grief  can  heal,  For  love  will  find  a  way. 


"  THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRJNCESS    WINSOME  "   20£ 

[Pauses  with  uplifted  hand. 
What's  that  at  my  casement  tapping  ? 
Some  messenger,  maybe. 
Pause,  good  wheel,  in  thy  turning, 
While  I  look  out  and  see. 

[Opens  casement  and  leans  out,  as  if  welcoming  a  carrier  dove, 

which  may  be  concealed  in  basket  outside  window. 
Little  white  dove,  from  my  faithful  knight, 
Dost  thou  bring  a  message  to  me  ? 
Little  white  dove  with  the  white,  white  breast, 
What  may  that  message  be  ? 

[Finds  note,  tied  to  winf 
Here  is  his  letter.     Ah,  well-a-day ! 

I'll  open  it  now,  and  read. 

Little  carrier  dove,  with  fluttering  heart, 

I'm  a  happy  maiden,  indeed. 

(She  reads.)     "  O  Princess  fair,  in  the  Ogre's  tower, 

In  the  far-off  Summer-land 

I  seek  the  South  Wind's  silver  flute, 

To  summon  a  fairy  band. 

Now  send  me  a  token  by  the  dove 

That  thou  hast  read  my  note. 

Send  me  the  little  heart  of  gold 

From  the  chain  about  thy  throat. 

And  I  shall  bind  it  upon  my  shield, 

My  talisman  there  to  stay. 

And  then  all  foes  to  me  must  yield, 

For  Love  will  find  the  way. 

Here  is  set  the  hand  and  seal 

Of  thy  own  true  knight,  the  faithful  —  Feal." 

[Princess  takes  locket  from  throat  and  winds  chain  around  dovfi 

neck. 
Princess  sings. 


210 


THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 


The  Dove  Song. 

—.  ~       Andante. 


Now,  flutterandfly,      flutter  and  fly, Bear  him  my  heart  of  gold, 


:ff    .     n    „  I — n-M-tr 


Bid  him  be  brave  little  carrier  dove  !  Bid  him  be  brave  and  bold  ! 


*-  -J— -1 


mp  Andantino. 


Tell  him  that  I  at  my  spinning  wheel,  Will  sing  while  it  turns  and 


*        w        w       m        -•        9       *        *        -|         (  f         J 


7 HE  RESCUE   OF   THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME"    211 


The  Dove  Song.    Concluded. 

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212  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

[Sets  dove  at  liberty.     Turning  to  wheel  again,  repeats  song. 
Princess  repeats.     My  Godmother  bids  me  spin, 
That  my  heart  may  not  be  sad ; 
Spin  and  sing  for  my  brother's  sake, 
And  the  spinning  makes  me  glad. 

Sing !   Spin !   With  hum  and  whir 

The  wheel  goes  round  and  round. 

For  my  brother's  sake  the  charm  I'll  break ! 

Prince  Hero  shall  be  found. 

Spin!  Sing!  The  golden  thread 
Gleams  in  the  sunlight's  ray ! 
The  humming  wheel  my  grief  can  heal, 
For  Love  will  find  a  way. 

[First  messenger  appears  at  window,  dressed  as  a  Morning-glory^ 
Morning-glory.     Fair  Princess, 
This  morning,  when  the  early  dawn 
Was  flushing  all  the  sky, 
Beside  the  trellis  where  I  bloomed, 
A  knight  rode  slowly  by. 

He  stopped  and  plucked  me  from  my  stem, 
And  said,  "  Sweet  Morning-glory, 
Be  thou  my  messenger  to-day, 
And  carry  back  my  story. 

"  Go  bid  the  Princess  in  the  tower 

Forget  all  thought  of  sorrow. 

Her  true  knight  will  return  to  her 

With  joy,  on  some  glad  morrow."  [Disappears 

Princess  sings.     Spin  !  spin  !  The  golden  thread 
Holds  no  thought  of  sorrow. 


"THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS   WINSOME"   213 

My  true  knight  he  shall  come  to  me 
With  joy  on  some  glad  morrow. 

\Secondflower  messenger,  dressed  as  Pansy,  appears  at  window. 
Pansy.     Gracious  Princess, 
I  come  from  Feal  the  Faithful. 
He  plucked  me  from  my  bower, 
And  said,  speed  to  the  Princess 
And  say,  "  Like  this  sweet  flower 
The  thoughts  within  my  bosom 
Bloom  ever,  love,  of  thee. 
Oh,  read  the  pansy's  message, 
And  give  a  thought  to  me."  [Pansy  disappttrt. 

Princess  sings.     Spin,  spin,  O  golden  thread  1 
And  turn,  O  humming  wheel. 
This  pansy  is  his  thought  of  me, 
My  true  knight,  brave  and  leal. 

[  Third  flower  messenger,  a  pink  Rttt. 

Rose.     Thy  true  knight  battled  for  thee  to-day, 
On  a  fierce  and  bloody  field, 
But  he  won  at  last  in  the  hot  affray, 
By  the  heart  of  gold  on  his  shield. 

He  saw  me  blushing  beside  a  wall, 

My  petals  pink  in  the  sun 

With  pleasure,  because  such  a  valiant  knight 

The  hard-fought  battle  had  won. 

And  he  kissed  me  once  on  my  soft  pink  cheek, 
And  once  in  my  heart  of  gold, 
And  bade  me  hasten  to  thee  and  speak. 
Pray  take  the  message  I  hold. 


214  THE  LITTLE   CO  LONE  US  HERO 

[Princess  goes  to  the  window,  takes  a  pink  rose  from  the 
messenger.  As  she  walks  back,  kisses  it  and  fastens  it  on  her 
dress.  Then  turns  to  -wheel  again. 

Princess  sings.     Spin,  spin,  O  golden  thread, 
And  turn,  O  happy  wheel. 
The  pink  rose  brought  in  its  heart  of  gold, 
A  kiss,  his  love  to  seal. 

[fourth  messenger,  a  forget-me-not. 

Forget-me-not.     Fair  Princess, 
Down  by  the  brook,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
A  brave  knight  paused  to  slake 
His  thirst  in  the  water's  silver  flow, 
As  he  journeyed  far  for  thy  sake. 
He  saw  me  bending  above  the  stream, 
And  he  said,  "  Oh,  happy  spot ! 
Ye  show  me  the  Princess  Winsome's  eyes 
In  each  blue  forget-me-not." 
He  bade  me  bring  you  my  name  to  hide 
In  your  heart  of  hearts  for  ever, 
And  say  as  long  as  its  blooms  are  blue, 
No  power  true  hearts  can  sever. 

Princess  sings.     Spin,  spin,  O  golden  thread. 
O  wheel;  my  happy  lot 
It  is  to  hide  within  my  heart 
That  name,  forget-me-not. 

[Fifth  messenger,  a  Poppy 

Poppy.     Dear  Princess  Winsome, 
Within  the  shade  of  a  forest  glade 
He  laid  him  down  to  sleep, 
And  I,  the  Poppy,  kept  faithful  guard 
That  it  might  be  sweet  and  deep. 
But  oft  in  his  dreams  he  stirred  and  spoke, 


"THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS   WINSOME"   21$ 

And  thy  name  was  on  his  tongue, 

And  I  learned  his  secret  ere  he  woke, 

When  the  fair  new  day  was  young. 

And  this  is  what  he,  whispering,  said, 

As  he  journeyed  on  in  his  way : 

"  Bear  her  my  dreams  in  your  chalice  red, 

For  I  dream  of  her  night  and  day." 

Princess  sings.     Spin,  spin,  O  golden  thread. 
He  dreams  of  me  night  and  day ! 
The  poppy's  chalice  is  sweet  and  red. 
Oh,  Love  will  find  a  way  ! 

[Sixth  messenger,  a  Daisy. 

Daisy.     O  Princess  fair, 
Far  on  the  edge  of  the  Summer-land 
I  stood  with  my  face  to  the  sun, 
And  the  brave  knight  counted  with  strong  hand 
My  petals,  one  by  one. 

And  he  said,  "  O  Daisy,  white  and  gold, 
The  princess  must  count  them  too. 
By  thy  petals  shall  she  be  told 
If  my  long,  far  quest  is  through. 

"  Whether  or  not  her  knight  has  found 
The  South  Wind's  flute  that  he  sought." 
So  over  the  hills  from  the  Summer-land, 
Your  true  knight's  token  I've  brought. 

[Gives  Princess  a  large  artificial  daisy.     She  counts  petals,  slowly 

dropping  them  one  by  one. 

Princess.     Far  on  the  edge  of  the  Summer-land, 
O  Daisy,  white  and  gold, 
My  true  love  held  you  in  his  hand. 
What  was  the  word  he  told? 


2l6  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

He's  found  it.     Found  it  not. 
Found  it.     Found  it  not. 

That  magic  flute  of  the  South  Wind,  sweet, 
Will  he  blow  it,  over  the  lea  ? 
Will  the  fairy  folk  its  call  repeat, 
And  hasten  to  rescue  me? 

He's  found  it,  found  it  not 

Found  it,  found  it  not. 

Found  it,  found  it  not. 

He's  found  it !  [  Turning  to  the  dog. 

Come,  Hero !     Hear  me,  brother  mine  ; 
Thy  gladness  must  indeed  be  mute, 
But  oh,  the  joy !     We're  saved  !    We're  saved  1 
My  knight  has  found  the  silver  flute  I 

(Sings.) 


Spin,   Wheel,  Reel    Out  Thy   Golden 
Thread." 

Vivace. 


ILL  Li,  r   *   ±z3-TH- 

"11  ix  ^— J-L^- 


Spin,  wheel,   reel  out  thy  golden  thread,  My  ^ 


ee 


"THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME"    21  / 

"Spin,  Wheel,  Reel  Out."    Concluded. 


hap  -  py  heart  sings  glad  and  gay,  Hero  shall  'scape  the 


O  -  gre  dread,  And  I       my  own    true  love  shall  wed.  For 

i  ^~  ^ 

^ 


_J |^__ .       • .• • »       fSV     • 

*^*FfpM^^ 


love  has  found    a  way,     For  love  has  found  a  way. 
,lii  I__ I,        ,       i       I         N    ^  . 

m   3       1 


[Curtain. 


218  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 


ACT  III. 

SCENE.  In  front  of  Witch's  Orchard.  Knight  comes  riding  by ', 
blows  flute  softly  under  the  tower  window.  Princess 
leans  out  and  waves  her  hand.  Knight  dismounts ,  and 
little  page  takes  horse,  leading  it  offstage. 

Knight.     Lean  out  of  thy  window,  O  Princess  fair, 
Rescuers  now  are  at  hand. 
Thou  shalt  be  led  down  the  winding  stair 
By  the  Queen  of  the  Fairy  band. 

Listen,  as  low  on  the  South  Wind's  flute 
I  call  the  elves  to  our  tryst. 
Down  rainbow  bubbles  they  softly  float, 
Light-winged  as  stars  in  a  mist. 

[He  blows  on  flute,  and  from  every  direction  the  Fairies  come 
floating  in,  their  gauzy  wings  spangled,  and  each  one  carry~ 
ing  a  toy  balloon,  attached  to  a  string.  They  trip  back  and 
forth,  their  balloons  bobbing  up  and  down  like  rainbow  bub 
bles,  singing. 


Fairy  Chorus. 

DUETT.  s 


IX 
I.  We  come,  we    come    at       thy    call,  On 

PIANO.         _^       _  .».      .». 


"  THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME"    2 19 

Fairy  Chorus.    Continued. 


rain-bow  bubbles  we    float.    .    .         We  fair  -  ies,  one  and 
I 


I                     "  ^^     -*-  I          I/     H         • 

south  wind's  sil  -  ver  flute,  From  the  far  -  off  sum-mer 

aid     of  the   gal-lant  knight,  To   the  help  of  the  princess 

now,      at      thy    be-hest,  We     pause  in  our  bright  ar- 


c=         =^=FF^=j=  j— j    r  H— 
5=jzE-E^=EEtEj=^gi= 


land,  It  bade  us  ha  -  sten  here,  ".  .  To 
fair,  To  the  res  -  cue  of  the  prince,  .  We 
ray,  To  end  thy  wea  -  ry  quest,  .  .  For 


22O  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

Fairy  Chorus.    Concluded. 


|i 


lend     a    help -ing hand.  It   bade    us    ha -sten, 

come  to  the  O  -  gre's  lair.  To     the    res  -  cue 

love    has  found    a  way.  To   end    thy  wea  -  ry, 

*      *=fat=fc 

V [ ET-J 


* 


ha  -  sten  here,     To     lend     a     help  -  ing    hand, 

of        the  prince,  We  come  to  the    O  -  gre's    lair, 

wea  -  ry  quest,  For   love     has  found     a      way. 

T     f    f         .^_ 

r       r      »       »  \^? f=^f — 


[Queen   Titania  coming  forward,  waves  her  sta 
and  looks  up  toward  Princess  at  the  window. 
Titania.     Princess  Winsome, 
When  thy  good  Godmother 
Bade  thee  spin  Love's  thread, 
It  was  with  this  promise, 
These  the  words  she  said : 

All  the  world  helps  gladly 
Those  who  help  themselves. 
The  thread  thou  spinnest  bravely, 
Shall  be  woven  by  elves. 


"  THE   RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS  WINSOME "    22 1 

And  now,  O  Princess  Winsome, 
How  much  hast  thou  spun, 
As  thy  wheel,  a-whirling, 
Turned  from  sun  to  sun  ? 

Princess.     This,  O  Queen  Titania. 

[Holding  up  mammoth  ball. 
To  the  humming  wheel's  refrain, 
I  sang,  and  spun  the  measure 
Of  one  great  golden  skein. 
And  winding,  winding,  winding, 
At  last  I  wound  it  all, 
Until  the  thread  all  golden 
Made  a  mammoth  wonder-ball. 

Titania.     Here  below  thy  casement 

Thy  true  knight  waiting  stands. 

Drop  the  ball  thou  holdest 

Into  his  faithful  hands. 

[Princess  drops  the  ball,  Knight  catches  it,  and  as  Titania  waves 
her  wand,  he  starts  along  the  line  of  Fairies.  They  each  take 
hold  as  the  Witch  and  Ogre  come  darting  in,  she  brandish- 
ing her  broomstick,  he  his  bludgeon.  They  come  through 
gate  of  the  Orchard  in  the  background.  As  the  ball  unwinds, 
the  Fairies  march  around  them,  tangling  them  in  the  yards 
and  yards  of  narrow  yellow  ribbon,  singing  as  they  go. 
Fairy  Chorus.  We  come,  we  come  at  thy  call, 

On  rainbow  bubbles  we  float. 

We  fairies,  one  and  all, 

Have  answered  the  Wind-flute's  note. 

To  the  aid  of  the  gallant  Knight, 

To  the  help  of  the  Princess  fair, 

To  the  rescue  of  the  Prince, 

We  come  to  the  Ogre's  lair. 


222  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

We  come,  we  come  at  thy  call, 
The  Witch  and  Ogre  to  quell, 
And  now  they  both  must  bow 
To  the  might  of  the  fairies'  spell. 
Love's  Golden  Thread  can  bind 
The  strongest  Ogre's  arm, 
And  the  spell  of  the  blackest  Witch 
Must  yield  to  its  mighty  charm. 

[Ogre  and  Witch  stand  bound  and  helpless,  tangled  in  golden  cord. 
They  glower  around  with  frightful  grimaces.     King  and 
Queen  enter  unnoticed  from  side.     Knight  draws  his  sword, 
and  brandishing  it  before  Ogre,  cries  out  fiercely. 
Knight.     The  key  !     The  key  that  opens  yonder  tower ! 

Now  give  it  me,  or  by  my  troth 

Your  head  shall  from  your  shoulders  fly ! 

To  stab  you  through  I'm  nothing  loath ! 

[Ogre  gives  Knight  the  key.     He  rushes  to  the  door,  unlocks  it, 
and  Princess  and  dog  burst  out.     Queen  rushes  forward  and 
embraces  her,  then  the  King,  and  Knight  kneels  and  kisses 
her  hand.     Princess  turns  to  Titania. 
Princess.     Oh,  happy  day  that  sets  me  free 

From  yon  dread  Ogre's  prison ! 

Oh,  happy  world,  since  'tis  for  me 

Such  rescuers  have  'risen. 

But  see,  your  Majesty  !  the  plight 

Of  Hero  —  he  the  Prince,  my  brother ! 

Wilt  thou  his  wrong  not  set  aright  ? 

Another  favour  grant !     One  other ! 

Titania  waves  wand  toward  Knight  who  springs  at   Witch  with 
drawn  sword. 

Knight.     The  spell !     The  spell  that  breaks  the  power 
That  holds  Prince  Hero  in  its  thrall ! 


«  THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME  "   22$ 

Now  give  it  me,  or  in  this  hour 

Thy  head  shall  from  its  shoulders  fall ! 
Witch,     Pluck  with  your  thumbs 

Seven  silver  plums  [Speaking  in  high,  cracked  voice. 

From  my  golden  apple-tree  ! 

These  the  dog  must  eat. 

The  change  will  be  complete, 

And  a  prince  once  more  the  dog  will  be ! 

[Princess  darts  back  into  Orchard,  followed  by  dog,  -who  crouches 
behind  hedge,  and  is  seen  no  more.  She  picks  plums,  and, 
stooping,  gives  them  to  him,  under  cover  of  the  hedge.  The 
real  Prince  Hero  leaps  up  from  the  place  -where  he  has  been 
lying,  waiting,  and  hand  in  hand  they  run  back  to  the  centre 
of  the  stage,  where  the  Prince  receives  the  embraces  of  King 
and  Queen.  Prince  then  turns  to  Knight. 
Prince  Hero.  Hail,  Feal  the  Faithful ! 

My  gratitude  I  cannot  tell, 

That  thou  at  last  hath  freed  me 

From  the  Witch's  fearful  spell. 

But  wheresoe'er  thou  goest, 

Thou  faithful  knight  and  true, 

The  favours  of  my  kingdom 

Shall  all  be  showered  on  you.  [Turns  to  Titania. 

Hail,  starry-winged  Titania ! 

And  ye  fairies,  rainbow-hued ! 

I  have  not  words  sufficient 

To  tell  my  gratitude, 

But  if  the  loyal  service 

Of  a  mortal  ye  should  need, 

Prince  Hero  lives  to  serve  you, 

No  matter  what  the  deed ! 

[Characters  now  group  themselves  in  tableau.    Queen  and  Prince 
on  one  side,  Godmother  and  Titania  on  the  other.      King  in 


224  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

centre,  with   Princess  on   one  hand,  Knight  on  other.     He 
places  her  hand  in  the  Knight's,  "who  kneels  to  receive  it.  Ogre 
and  Witch,  still  making  horrible  faces,  are  slightly  in  back- 
ground, bound.     Fairies  form  an  outer  semicircle. 
King.     And  now,  brave  Knight,  requited  stand ! 
Here  is  the  Princess  Winsome's  hand. 
To-morrow  thou  shalt  wedded  be, 
And  half  my  kingdom  is  for  thee  ! 

Fairy  Chorus.     Love's  golden  cord  has  bound 
The  strongest  Ogre's  arm, 
And  the  spell  of  the  blackest  Witch 
Has  yielded  to  its  charm. 
The  Princess  Winsome  plights 
Her  troth  to  the  Knight  to-day, 
So  fairies,  one  and  all, 
We  need  no  longer  stay. 

The  golden  thread  is  spun, 
The  Knight  has  won  his  bride, 
And  now  our  task  is  done, 
We  may  no  longer  bide. 
On  rainbow  bubbles  bright, 
We  fairies  float  away. 
The  wrong  is  now  set  right 
And  Love  has  found  the  way  / 

[Curtain. 

As  Betty  finished  reading,  there  was  a  babel  of 
voices  and  a  clapping  of  hands  that  made  her  face 
grow  redder  and  redder.  They  were  all  trying  to 
congratulate  her  at  once,  and  she  was  so  confused 
that  she  wished  she  could  run  away  and  hide.  But 


"  THE  RESCUE  OF  THE  PRINCESS  WINSOME  "22$ 

the  applause  was  very  sweet  to  shy  little  Betty. 
She  felt  that  she  had  done  her  best,  and  that  not 
only  her  godmother  was  proud  of  her,  but  Keith,  and 
Keith's  beautiful  mother,  who  bent  from  her  queenly 
height  to  kiss  Betty's  flushed  cheek,  and  whisper  a 
word  of  praise  that  made  her  glow  for  weeks  after- 
ward, whenever  she  thought  of  it. 

" « And  he  kissed  me  once  on  my  soft  pink  cheek, 
And  once  in  my  heart  of  gold,' " 

hummed  Keith.  "  Say,  Betty,  that's  mighty  pretty. 
How  did  you  ever  think  of  it  ? " 

Before  she  could  answer,  one  of  the  maids  came 
out  with  a  tray  of  sherbet  and  cake,  and  the  boys 
sprang  up  to  help  serve  the  girls. 

"I  know  some  of  my  part  already,"  said  Kitty, 
stirring  her  sherbet  suggestively,  and  repeating  in  a 
sepulchral  tone : 

" '  I'll  stir 

This  hank  of  hair,  this  patch  of  fur, 
This  feather  and  this  flapping  fin, 
This  claw,  this  bone,  this  dried  snake  skin.'*' 

"  Oh,  Kitty,  for  mercy's  sake  hush  /"  said  Allison  ; 
"you  make  my  blood  run  cold." 

"  But  I  must,  if  we've  only  a  week  to  get  ready 
in.  I  expect  to  say  it  day  and  night.  It's  better  to 


226  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

do  that  than  to  take  more  than  a  week,  and  give  up 
the  camping  party,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  It's  going  to  be  a  howling  success,"  prophesied 
Malcolm.  "  When  mamma  and  auntie  and  Aunt 
Mary  go  into  a  scheme  the  way  they  are  doing  now, 
costumes  and  drills,  and  all  sorts  of  impossible  things 
don't  count  at  all.  Well  be  ready  in  plenty  of 
time." 

"  Especially,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  with  dignity, 
"when  mothah  and  Papa  Jack  are  goin'  to  do  so 
much.  My  pa'ht  is  longah  than  anybody's." 

Next  morning  at  the  depot,  the  post-office,  and  the 
blacksmith  shop  a  sign  was  displayed  which  every- 
body stopped  to  read.  Similar  announcements  nailed 
on  various  trees  throughout  the  Valley  caused  many 
an  old  farmer  to  pull  up  his  team  and  adjust  his 
spectacles  for  a  closer  view  of  this  novel  poster. 

They  were  all  Miss  Allison's  work.  Each  one 
bore  at  the  top  a  crayon  sketch  of  a  huge  St.  Ber- 
nard, with  a  Red  Cross  on  its  collar  and  shoulder- 
bags.  Underneath  was  a  notice  to  the  effect  that  an 
entertainment  would  be  given  the  following  Friday 
night  in  the  college  hall,  a  short  concert,  followed  by 
a  play  called  "The  Princess  Winsome's  Rescue," 
in  which  Hero,  the  Red  Cross  dog  recently  brought 
from  Germany,  would  take  a  prominent  part.  The 


"  THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME  "22? 

proceeds  were  to  be  given  to  the  cause  of  the  Red 
Cross. 

That  announcement  alone  would  have  drawn  a 
large  crowd,  but  added  to  that  was  the  fact  that 
twenty  families  in  the  Valley  had  each  contributed  a 
child  to  the  fairy  chorus  or  the  group  of  flower  mes- 
sengers, and  were  thus  personally  interested  in  the 
success  of  the  entertainment. 

There  was  scarcely  standing-room  when  the  doors 
were  opened  Friday  evening.  Papa  Jack  felt  well 
repaid  for  his  part  in  the  hurried  preparations  when, 
after  the  musical  part  of  the  programme,  he  heard 
the  buzz  of  admiration  that  went  around  the  room, 
as  the  curtain  rose  on  the  first  scene  of  the  play. 
It  was  the  dimly  lighted  witch's  orchard. 

Across  the  stage,  five  feet  back  from  the  footlights, 
ran  a  snaky-looking  fence  with  high-spiked  posts.  It 
had  taken  him  all  morning  to  build  it,  even  with 
Alec's  and  Walker's  help.  Above  this  peered  a 
thicket  of  small  trees  and  underbrush  bearing  a  mar- 
vellous crop  of  gold  and  silver  apples  and  plums. 
Real  gold  and  silver  fruit  it  looked  to  be  in  the  dim 
light,  and  not  the  discarded  ornaments  of  a  score  of 
old  Christmas-trees.  A  stuffed  owl  kept  guard  on 
one  high  gate-post,  and  a  huge  black  velvet  cat  on 
the  other. 


228  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

In  the  centre  of  the  stage,  showing  plainly  through 
the  open  double  gates,  the  witch's  caldron  hung  on 
a  tripod,  over  a  fire  of  fagots.  Here  Kitty,  dressed 
like  an  old  hag,  leaned  on  her  blackened  broomstick, 
stirring  the  brew,  and  muttering  to  herself. 

At  one  side  of  the  stage  could  be  seen  the  door 
leading  into  the  ogre's  tower,  and  above  it  a  tiny 
casement  window. 

Mrs.  Walton  gave  a  nod  of  satisfaction  over  her 
work,  when  the  ogre  came  roaring  in.  His  costume 
was  of  her  making,  even  to  the  bludgeon  which  he 
carried.  "  Nobody  could  guess  that  it  was  only  an 
old  Indian  club  painted  red  to  hide  the  lumps  of 
sealing-wax  I  had  to  stick  on  to  make  the  regula- 
tion knots,"  she  whispered  to  Keith's  father,  who  sat 
next  her.  "  And  no  one  would  ever  dream  that  the 
ogre  is  Joe  Clark.  I  had  hard  work  to  persuade 
him  to  take  the  part,  but  an  invitation  to  my  camp- 
ing party  next  week  proved  to  be  effective  bait. 
And  such  a  time  as  I  had  to  get  Ranald's  costume ! 
I  was  about  to  ask  Betty  to  change  his  name,  when 
Elise  found  that  Mardi  Gras  frog  at  some  costumer's. 
Those  webbed  feet  and  hideous  eyes  are  enough  to 
strike  terror  to  any  one's  soul." 

It  was  a  play  in  which  every  one  was  pleased  with 
the  part  given  him.  Allison  and  Rob  swept  up  and 


«  THE  RESCUE  OP  THE  PRINCESS  WINSOME n  22<) 

down  in  their  gilt  crowns  and  ermine-trimmed  robes 
of  royal  purple,  feeling  that  as  king  and  queen  they 
had  the  most  important  parts  of  all.  Keith  looked 
every  inch  the  charming  Prince  Hero  he  personated, 
and  Malcolm  made  such  a  dashing  knight  that  there 
was  a  burst  of  applause  every  time  he  appeared. 

Betty  made  a  dear  old  godmother,  and  Elise, 
with  crown  and  star-tipped  wand,  filmy  spangled 
wings,  and  big  red  bubble  of  a  balloon,  was  supremely 
happy  as  Queen  of  the  Fairies.  But  it  was  the 
Little  Colonel  who  won  the  greatest  laurels,  in  the 
tower  room,  making  the  prettiest  picture  of  all  as 
she  bent  over  the  great  St.  Bernard,  bewailing  their 
fate. 

The  scenery  had  been  changed  with  little  delay 
between  acts.  Three  tall  screens,  hastily  unfolded 
just  in  front  of  the  spiked  fence,  hid  the  orchard 
from  view,  and  a  fourth  screen  served  the  double 
purpose  of  forming  the  side  wall  of  the  room,  and 
hiding  the  ogre's  tower.  The  narrow  space  between 
the  screens  and  the  footlights  was  ample  for  the 
scene  that  took  place  there,  and  the  arrangement 
saved  much  trouble.  For  in  the  last  act,  the  screens 
had  only  to  be  carried  away,  to  leave  the  stage  with 
its  original  setting. 

"  Lloyd  never  looked  so  pretty  before,  in  her  life," 


23O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

said  Mr.  Sherman  to  his  wife,  as  they  watched  the 
Princess  Winsome  tread  back  and  forth  beside  the 
spinning-wheel,  the  golden  cord  held  lightly  in  her 
white  fingers.  But  she  was  even  prettier  in  the  next 
scene,  when  with  the  dove  in  her  hands  she  stood  at 
the  window,  twining  the  slender  gold  chain  about  its 
neck  and  singing  in  a  high,  sweet  voice,  clear  as  a 
crystal  bell : 

«  Flutter  and  fly,  flutter  and  fly, 
Bear  him  my  heart  of  gold. 
Bid  him  be  brave,  little  carrier  dove, 
Bid  him  be  brave  and  bold." 

Twice  many  hands  called  her  back,  and  many  eyes 
looked  admiringly  as  she  sang  the  song  again,  hold- 
ing the  dove  to  her  breast  and  smoothing  its  white 
feathers  as  she  repeated  the  words : 

"  Tell  him  that  I  at  my  spinning-wheel 
Will  sing  while  it  turns  and  hums, 
And  think  all  day  of  his  love  so  leal 
Until  with  the  flute  he  comes." 

"Jack,"  said  some  one  in  a  low  tone  to  Mr.  Sher- 
man, as  the  applause  died  away  for  the  third  time, 
"  Jack,  when  the  Princess  Winsome  is  a  little  older, 
you'd  be  wise  to  call  in  the  ogre's  help.  You'll  have 
more  than  one  Kentucky  Knight  trying  to  carry  her 
away  if  you  don't." 


I 


SPIN,    WHEEL,    REEL    OUT    THY    GOLDEN    THREAD' 


"THE  RESCUE   OF  THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME"   23 1 

Mr.  Sherman  made  some  laughing  reply,  but 
turned  away  so  absorbed  by  a  thought  that  his  friend's 
words  had  suggested  that  he  lost  all  of  the  flower 
messengers'  speeches.  That  some  knight  might 
want  to  carry  off  his  little  Princess  Winsome  was  a 
thought  that  had  never  occurred  to  him  except  as 
some  remote  possibility  far  in  the  future.  But  look- 
ing at  her  as  she  stood  in  her  long  court  train,  he 
realised  that  in  a  few  more  months  she  would  be  in 
her  teens,  and  then  —  time  goes  so  fast !  He  sighed, 
thinking  with  a  heavy  sinking  of  the  heart  that  it 
might  be  only  a  few  years  until  she  would  be  count- 
ing the  daisy  petals  in  earnest. 

The  curtain  hitched  just  at  the  last,  so  that  it 
would  not  go  down,  so  with  their  rainbow  bubbles 
bright  the  fairies  ran  off  the  stage  toward  various 
points  in  the  audience,  for  the  coveted  admiration 
and  praise  which  they  knew  was  their  due. 

"  Wasn't  Hero  fine  ?  Didn't  he  do  his  part  beauti- 
fully ?  "  cried  Lloyd,  as  her  father,  with  one  long  step, 
raised  himself  up  to  a  place  beside  her  on  the  stage, 
where  the  children  were  holding  an  informal  recep- 
tion. 

"  Show  him  the  money-box,"  cried  Keith,  pressing 
down  through  the  crowds  from  the  outer  door 
whither  he  had  gone  after  the  entrance  receipts. 


232  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  Just  look,  old  fellow.  There's  dollars  and  dollars 
in  there.  See  what  you've  done  for  the  Red  Cross. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  Betty  never  would  have 
written  the  play." 

"And  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Betty's  writing  the 
play  you  never  would  have  sent  me  this  heart  of 
gold,"  said  Malcolm  in  an  aside  to  Lloyd,  as  he  un- 
fastened her  locket  and  chain  from  his  shield.  "Am 
I  to  keep  it  always,  fair  princess  ? " 

"  No,  indeed  !  "  she  answered,  laughingly,  holding 
out  her  hand  to  take  it.  "  Papa  Jack  gave  me  that, 
and  I  wouldn't  give  it  up  to  any  knight  undah  the 
sun." 

"That's  right,  little  daughter,"  whispered  her 
father.  "I  am  not  in  such  a  hurry  to  give  up  my 
Princess  Winsome  as  the  old  king  was.  Come, 
dear,  help  me  find  Betty.  I  want  to  tell  her  what 
a  grand  success  it  was." 

Lloyd  slipped  a  hand  in  her  father's  and  led  him 
toward  a  wing  whither  the  shy  little  godmother  had 
fled,  without  a  glance  in  Malcolm's  direction.  But 
afterward,  when  she  came  out  of  the  dressing-room, 
wrapped  in  her  long  party-cloak,  she  saw  him  stand- 
ing by  the  door.  "  Good  night !  "  he  said,  waving  his 
plumed  helmet.  Then,  with  a  mischievous  smile,  he 
sang  in  an  undertone : 


THE  RESCUE   OF   THE  PRINCESS    WINSOME"    233 

"  Go  bid  the  princess  in  the  tower 
Forget  all  thought  of  sorrow. 
Her  true  knight  will  return  to  her 
With  joy,  on  some  glad  morrow." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

IN    CAMP 

SEVERAL  miles  from  Lloydsboro  Valley,  where  a 
rapid  brook  runs  by  the  ruins  of  an  old  paper-mill, 
a  roaring  waterfall  foams  and  splashes.  Even  in 
the  long  droughts  of  midsummer  it  is  green  and 
cool  there,  for  the  spray,  breaking  on  the  slippery 
stones,  freshens  the  ferns  on  the  bank,  and  turns  its 
moss  to  the  vivid  hue  of  an  emerald.  Near  by,  in 
an  open  pasture,  sloping  down  from  a  circle  of 
wooded  hills,  lies  an  ideal  spot  for  a  small  camp. 

It  was  here  that  Mrs.  Walton  and  Miss  Allison 
came  one  warm  afternoon,  the  Monday  following  the 
entertainment,  with  a  wagonette  full  of  children. 
Ranald,  Malcolm,  Keith,  and  Rob  Moore  had  ridden 
over  earlier  in  the  day  to  superintend  the  coloured 
men  who  dug  the  trenches  and  pitched  the  tents. 
By  the  time  the  wagonette  arrived,  fuel  enough  to 
last  a  week  was  piled  near  the  stones  where  the 
camp-fire  was  laid,  and  everything  was  in  readiness 


IN  CAMP  235 

for  the  gay  party.  Flags  floated  from  the  tent  poles, 
and  Dinah,  the  young  coloured  woman  who  was  to  be 
the  cook,  came  up  from  the  spring,  balancing  a  pail 
of  water  on  her  head,  smiling  broadly. 

As  the  boys  and  girls  swarmed  out  and  scurried 
away  in  every  direction  like  a  horde  of  busy  ants, 
Mrs.  Walton  turned  to  her  sister  with  a  laugh.  "  Did 
we  lose  any  of  them  on  the  way,  Allison?  We'd 
better  count  noses." 

"  No,  we  are  all  here :  eight  girls,  four  boys,  the 
four  already  on  the  field,  Dinah  and  her  baby,  and 
ourselves,  twenty  in  all." 

"Twenty-one,  counting  Hero,"  corrected  Mrs. 
Walton,  as  the  great  St.  Bernard  went  leaping  after 
Lloyd,  sniffing  at  the  tents,  and  barking  occasion- 
ally to  express  his  interest  in  the  frolic.  "  He  seems 
to  be  enjoying  it  as  much  as  any  of  us." 

"  I  wish  that  they  were  all  as  able  to  take  care  of 
themselves  as  he  is.  It  would  save  us  a  world  of 
anxiety.  Do  you  begin  to  realise,  Mary,  what  a  load 
of  responsibility  we  have  taken  on  our  shoulders? 
Sixteen  boys  and  girls  to  keep  out  of  harm's  way  for 
a  week  in  the  woods  is  no  easy  matter." 

"We'll  keep  them  so  busy  that  they'll  have  no 
time  for  mischief.  The  wagonette  isn't  unloaded 
yet.  Wait  till  you  see  the  games  I've  brought,  and 


236  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

the  fishing-tackle.  There's  an  old  curtain  that  can 
be  hung  between  those  two  trees  any  time  we  want 
to  play  charades." 

"Swing  that  hammock  over  there,  Ranald,"  she 
called,  nodding  to  a  clump  of  trees  near  the  spring. 
"  Then  some  of  you  boys  can  carry  this  chest  back 
to  Dinah."  She  pointed  to  the  old  army  mess-chest, 
that  always  accompanied  them  on  their  picnics  and 
outings. 

"  The  Ogre  can  do  that,"  said  the  Little  Captain, 
nodding  toward  Joe  Clark,  who  stood  leaning  lazily 
against  a  tree. 

"Do  it  yourself,  Frog-Eye  Fearsome,"  retorted 
Joe,  at  the  same  time  coming  forward  to  help  carry 
the  chest  to  the  place  assigned  it. 

"They'll  never  be  able  to  get  away  from  those 
names,"  said  Miss  Allison.  "  Well,  what  is  it,  my 
Princess  Winsome  ? "  she  asked,  as  Lloyd  came  run- 
ning up  to  her. 

"  Please  take  care  of  these  for  me,  Miss  Allison," 
answered  Lloyd,  holding  out  Hero's  shoulder-bags, 
which  she  had  just  taken  from  him.  "  I  put  on  his 
things  when  we  started,  for  mothah  says  nobody 
evah  knows  what's  goin'  to  happen  in  camp,  and  we 
might  need  those  bandages."  Tumbling  them  into 
Miss  Allison's  lap,  she  was  off  again  in  breathless 


IN  CAMP  237 

haste,  to  follow  the  other  girls,  who  were  exploring 
the  tents,  and  exclaiming  over  all  the  queer  make- 
shifts of  camp  life.  Then  they  raced  down  to  the 
waterfall,  and,  taking  off  shoes  and  stockings,  waded 
up  and  down  in  the  brook.  These  early  fall  days 
were  as  warm  as  August,  so  wading  was  not  yet  one 
of  the  forbidden  pastimes.  They  splashed  up  and 
down  until  the  Little  Captain's  bugle  sent  a  ringing 
call  for  their  return  to  camp.  Katie  was  one  of  the 
last  to  leave  the  water.  Lloyd  waited  for  her  while 
she  hurriedly  laced  her  shoes,  and  as  they  followed 
the  others  she  said,  in  a  confidential  tone,  "  Do  you 
think  you  are  goin'  to  like  to  stay  out  heah  till  next 
Sata'day  ? " 

"  Like  it ! "  echoed  Katie,  "  I  could  stay  here  a 
year ! " 

"  But  at  night,  I  mean.  Sleepin'  in  those  narrow 
little  cots,  with  nothin'  ovah  ou'  heads  but  the  tents, 
and  no  floah.  Ugh!  What  if  a  snake  or  a  liz'ad 
should  wiggle  in,  and  you'd  heah  it  rustlin'  around 
in  the  grass  undah  you!  There's  suah  to  be  bugs 
and  ants  and  cattahpillahs.  I  like  camp  in  the  day- 
light, but  it  would  be  moah  comfortable  to  have  a 
house  to  sleep  in  at  night.  I  wish  I  could  wish 
myself  back  home  till  mawnin'." 

"  I  don't  mind  the  bugs  and  spiders,"  said  Katie, 


238  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

recklessly,  "and  you'd  better  not  let  the  boys  find 
out  that  you  do,  or  they'll  never  stop  teasing  you." 

A  bountifully  spread  supper-table  met  their  sight 
as  they  reached  the  camp.  It  had  been  made  by 
laying  long  boards  across  two  poles,  which  were  sup- 
ported by  forked  stakes  driven  into  the  ground.  The 
eight  girls  made  a  rush  for  the  camp-stools  on  one 
side  of  the  table,  and  the  eight  boys  grabbed  those 
on  the  other  side. 

"  Don't  have  to  have  no  manners  in  the  woods," 
remarked  little  Freddy  Nicholls,  straddling  his  stool, 
and  beginning  his  supper,  regardless  of  the  knife  and 
fork  beside  his  plate.  "That's  what  I  like  about 
camping  out.  You  don't  have  to  wait  to  have  things 
handed  to  you,  but  can  dip  in  and  get  what  you 
want  like  an  Injun." 

Lloyd  looked  at  him  scornfully  as  she  daintily  un- 
folded her  paper  napkin.  She  nodded  a  decided  yes 
when  Katie  whispered,  "Aren't  boys  horrid  and 
greedy  !  "  Then  she  corrected  herself  hastily.  She 
had  seen  Malcolm  wait  to  pass  a  dish  of  fried  chicken 
to  his  Aunt  Allison  before  helping  himself,  and 
heard  Ranald  apologise  to  his  next  neighbour  for 
accidentally  jogging  his  elbow.  "Not  all  of  them," 
she  replied.  ' 

It  added  much  to  Betty's  interest  in  the  meal  to 


IN  CAMP  239 

know  that  the  cup  from  which  she  drank,  and  the 
fork  with  which  she  ate,  had  been  used  by  real  sol- 
diers, and  carried  from  one  army  post  to  another 
many  times  in  the  travel-worn  old  mess  chest. 

Little  Elise  was  the  only  one  who  did  not  give  due 
attention  to  her  supper.  She  sat  with  a  cooky  in  her 
hand,  looking  off  at  the  hills  with  dreamy  eyes,  until 
her  mother  spoke  to  her. 

"  I  am  trying  to  make  some  poetry  like  Betty  did," 
she  answered.  Ever  since  the  play  her  thoughts 
seemed  trying  to  twist  themselves  into  rhymes,  and 
she  was  constantly  coming  up  to  her  mother  with  a 
new  verse  she  had  just  made. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Titania?"  asked  Mrs.  Walton, 
seeing  from  the  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  the  black 
eyes  that  the  verse  was  ready. 

"It's  all  of  our  names,"  she  said,  shyly,  waving 
her  hand  toward  the  girls  on  her  side  of  the  table. 

"  Betty,  Corinne,  and  Lloyd,  Margery,  Kitty,  and  Kate, 
Allison  and  Elise  all  together  make  eight." 

"  Oh,  that's  easy,"  said  Rob.  "You  just  strung  a 
lot  of  names  together.  Anybody  can  do  that." 

"You  do  it,  then,"  proposed  Kitty.  "Make  a 
verse  with  the  boys'  names  in  it." 

"Malcolm,    Ranald,    and    Rob,    Jamie,    Freddy, 


240  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Keith,"  he  began,  boldly,  then  hesitated.     "There 
isn't  any  rhyme  for  Keith." 

"Change  them  around,"  suggested  Malcolm.  The 
girls  would  not  help,  and  the  whole  row  of  boys 
floundered  among  the  names  for  a  while,  unwilling 
to  be  beaten  by  the  youngest  member  of  the 
party,  and  a  girl,  at  that.  Finally,  by  their  united 
efforts  and  a  hint  from  Miss  Allison,  they  succeeded. 

"  Malcolm,  Ranald,  and  Rob,  Keith  and  Freddy,  and  James, 
Joe   the   Ogre,  and   George.     Those   are   the  boys'   eight 
names." 

"Let's  make  a  law,"  suggested  Kitty,  "that  no- 
body at  the  table  can  say  anything  from  now  on  till 
we  are  through  supper,  unless  they  speak  in  rhymes." 

They  all  agreed,  but  for  a  few  minutes  no  one 
ventured  a  remark.  Only  giggles  broke  the  silence, 
until  Allison  asked  Freddy  Nicholls  to  pass  the 
pickles.  Recorded  here  in  a  book,  it  may  seem  a 
very  silly  game,  but  to  the  jolly  camping  party,  ready 
to  laugh  at  even  the  sheerest  nonsense,  it  proved  to 
be  the  source  of  much  fun.  Even  Freddy,  to  his 
own  great  delight,  surprised  himself  and  the  company 
by  asking  Elise  to  take  some  cheese.  Joe  was  thrown 
into  confusion  by  Kitty's  asking  him  if  flesh,  fowl,  or 
fish,  was  his  favourite  dish.  As  he  could  only  nod 
his  head,  he  had  to  pay  a  forfeit,  and  Keith  answered 


IN  CAMP  241 

for  him  by  saying,  "That's  not  a  fair  question  to 
Joe.  An  ogre  eats  all  things,  you  know."  So  it 
went  on  until  Mrs.  Walton  said : 

"  Now  all  who  are  able,  may  rise  from  the  table. 

The  camp-fire's  burning  bright. 
Spread  rugs  on  the  ground,  and  gather  around, 
And  we'll  all  tell  tales  in  its  light." 

"This  is  the  j oiliest  part  of  it  all!"  exclaimed 
Keith,  a  little  later,  as,  stretched  out  on  a  thick 
Indian  blanket,  he  looked  around  on  the  circle  of 
faces,  glowing  in  the  light  of  the  leaping  fagot-fire. 
Twilight  had  settled  on  the  camp.  The  tumbling  of 
the  waterfall  over  the  rocks  made  a  subdued  roar  in 
the  background.  An  owl  called  somewhere  from  the 
depths  of  the  woods.  As  the  dismal  "Tu-whit,  tu 
who-oo "  sounded  through  the  gloaming,  Lloyd 
glanced  over  her  shoulder  with  a  shudder. 

"Ugh!"  she  exclaimed.  "It  looks  as  if  the 
witch's  orchard  might  be  there  behind  us,  with  all 
sorts  of  snaky,  crawlin'  things  in  it.  Come  heah, 
Hero.  Let  me  put  my  back  against  you.  It  makes 
me  feel  shivery  to  even  think  of  such  a  thing ! " 

The  dog  edged  nearer  at  her  call,  and  she  snuggled 
up  against  his  tawny  curls  with  a  feeling  of  warmth 
and  protection. 

"Wish  I  had  a  dog  like  that,"  said  Jamie,  fondly 


242  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

stroking  the  silky  ear  that  was  nearest  him.  "  I 
wouldn't  take  a  thousand  dollars  for  him  if  I  had." 

"  Money  couldn't  buy  Hero  !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd. 

"Now  what  would  you  do,"  said  Kitty,  who  was 
always  supposing  impossible  things,  "if  some  old 
witch  would  come  to  you  and  say,  '  You  may  have 
your  choice;  a  palace  full  of  gold  and  silver  and 
precious  stones  and  give  up  Hero,  or  keep  him  and 
be  a  beggar  in  rags  ? '  " 

"  I'd  be  a  beggah,  of  co'se  !  "  cried  Lloyd,  warmly, 
throwing  her  arm  around  the  dog's  neck.  "Think 
I'd  go  back  on  anybody  that  had  saved  my  life  ?  But 
I  wouldn't  stay  a  beggah,"  she  continued.  "  I'd  put 
on  the  Red  Cross  too,  and  we'd  go  away  where  there 
was  war,  Hero  and  I,  and  we'd  spend  ou'  lives  takin' 
care  of  the  soldiahs.  I  wouldn't  have  to  dress  in 
rags,  for  I'd  weah  the  nurse's  costume,  and  I'd  do  so 
much  good  that  some  day,  may  be,  somebody  would 
send  me  the  Gold  Cross  of  Remembrance,  as  they 
did  Clara  Barton,  and  I'm  suah  that  I'd  rathah  have 
that,  with  all  it  means,  than  all  the  precious  stones 
and  things  that  the  witch  could  give  me." 

"  When  did  Hero  save  your  life  ? "  asked  Joe, 
who  had  not  heard  the  story  of  the  runaway  in 
Geneva. 

"Tell  us  all  about  it,  Lloyd,"  asked  Mrs.  Walton. 


THE    CLEAR    CALL    .    .    .    RANG    OUT    INTO    THE    DARK 
WOODS " 


IN  CAMP  243 

So  Lloyd  began,  and  the  group  around  the  fire  lis- 
tened with  breathless  attention.  And  that  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  Major's  story,  and  all  he  had  told  her 
of  St.  Bernard  dogs,  and  of  the  Red  Cross  service. 
Then  the  finding  of  the  Major  by  his  faithful  dog  on 
the  dark  mountain  after  the  storm.  Betty's  turn 
came  next.  She  repeated  some  of  the  stories  they 
had  heard  on  shipboard.  Mrs.  Walton  added  her 
part  afterward,  telling  her  personal  experience  with 
the  Red  Cross  work  in  Cuba  and  the  Philippines. 

"  That  is  one  reason  I  took  such  a  deep  interest 
in  your  little  entertainment,"  she  said,  "and  was  so 
pleased  when  it  brought  so  much  money.  I  know 
that  every  penny  under  the  wise  direction  of  the 
Red  Cross  will  help  to  make  some  poor  soldier  more 
comfortable  ;  or  if  some  sudden  calamity  should  come 
in  this  country,  before  it  was  sent  away,  your  little 
fund  might  help  to  save  dozens  of  lives." 

The  fire  had  burned  low  while  they  talked,  and 
Elise  was  yawning  sleepily.  Miss  Allison  looked  at 
her  watch.  "  How  the  time  has  flown  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed in  surprise.  "  Where  is  the  bugler  of  this 
camp  ?  It  is  high  time  for  him  to  play  taps." 

Ranald  ran  for  his  bugle,  and  the  clear  call  that 
he  had  learned  to  play  when  he  was  "The  Little 
Captain,"  in  far-away  Luzon,  rang  out  into  the  dark 


244  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

woods.  It  was  answered  by  the  same  silvery  notes. 
Mrs.  Walton  and  Miss  Allison  looked  at  each  other 
in  surprise,  for  the  reply  was  no  echo,  but  the  call 
of  a  real  bugle,  somewhere  not  far  away. 

"Oh,  we  forgot  to  tell  you,  Aunt  Mary,"  said 
Malcolm,  noting  the  surprised  glance.  "  It's  a  regi- 
ment of  the  State  Guard,  in  camp  over  by  Calkin's 
Cliff.  We  boys  were  over  there  this  morning.  They 
made  a  big  fuss  over  us  when  they  found  that 
Ranald  was  General  Walton's  son  and  we  were  his 
nephews.  They  wanted  us  to  stay  to  dinner,  and 
when  they  found  out  that  you  were  coming  to  camp 
here,  the  Colonel  said  he  wanted  to  come  over  here 
and  call.  He  used  to  know  you  out  West." 

"Colonel  Wayne,"  repeated  Mrs.  Walton,  when 
Malcolm  finally  remembered  the  name.  "  We  knew 
him  when  he  was  only  a  young  cadet  at  West  Point. 
The  General  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  I  shall  be 
glad  to  see  him  again." 

"They'll  be  interested  in  Hero,"  said  Ranald. 
"  Maybe  they'll  want  to  train  some  war  dogs  for  our 
army  if  they  see  him  at  work.  Do  you  suppose  he 
has  forgotten  his  training,  Lloyd  ?  Let's  try  him  in 
the  morning." 

"You  can  make  a  great  game  of  it,"  suggested 
Mrs.  Walton.  "  Rig  up  one  of  the  tents  for  a  hospi- 


IN  CAMP  245 

tal.  Some  of  the  boys  can  be  wounded  soldiers  and 
some  of  the  girls  nurses." 

"All  but  me,"  said  Lloyd.  "I'll  have  to  be  an 
officer  to  give  the  ordahs.  He  only  knows  the  Ger- 
man words  for  that,  and  the  Majah  taught  them  to 
me." 

"What  can  we  use  for  the  brassards  and  cos- 
tumes ? "  said  Kitty. 

"  Elise  has  an  old  red  apron  in  the  clothes-hamper 
that  we  can  cut  up  for  crosses,"  said  Mrs.  Walton, 
always  ready  for  emergencies.  "  But  now  to  your 
tents,  every  man  of  you,  or  you'll  never  be  ready  to 
get  up  in  the  morning." 

It  was  hard  to  go  to  sleep  in  the  midst  of  such 
strange  surroundings,  and  more  than  once  Lloyd 
started  up,  aroused  by  the  hoot  of  an  owl,  or  the 
thud  of  a  bat  against  the  side  of  the  tent.  Not  until 
she  reached  out  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  great  St. 
Bernard  stretched  out  beside  her  cot,  did  she  settle 
herself  comfortably  to  sleep.  With  the  touch  of  his 
soft  curls  against  her  fingers,  she  was  no  longer 
afraid. 

When  the  officers  came  into  the  camp  next  day, 
they  found  the  children  in  the  midst  of  their  new 
game.  It  was  some  time  before  their  attention  was 
attracted  to  it,  for  the  Colonel  was  one  of  the  men 


246  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

who  had  followed  General  Walton  on  his  long,  hard 
Indian  campaign,  and  there  were  many  questions  to 
be  asked  and  answered  about  mutual  friends  in  the 
army. 

Hero  was  not  making  a  serious  business  of  the 
game,  but  was  entering  into  it  as  if  it  were  a  big 
frolic.  He  could  not  make  believe  as  the  boys 
could,  who  played  at  soldiering.  But  the  old  words 
of  command,  uttered  in  the  Little  Colonel's  high,  ex- 
cited voice,  sent  him  bounding  in  the  direction  she 
pointed,  and  the  prostrate  forms  he  found  scattered 
about  the  sham  battle-field,  seemed  to  quicken  his 
memory.  Mrs.  Walton  presently  called  the  officer's 
attention  to  the  efforts  Hero  was  making  to  recall 
his  old  lessons,  and  briefly  outlined  his  history. 

"I  believe  he  would  remember  perfectly,"  said  the 
Colonel,  watching  him  with  deep  interest,  "if  we 
were  to  take  him  over  to  our  camp,  and  try  him 
among  the  regular  uniformed  soldiers.  Of  course 
our  accoutrements  are  not  the  kind  he  has  been  ac- 
customed to,  but  I  think  they  would  suggest  them. 
At  least  the  smell  of  powder  would  be  familiar,  and 
the  guns  and  canteens  and  knapsacks  might  awaken 
something  in  his  memory  that  would  revive  his  entire 
training.  I  should  like  very  much  to  make  the 
experiment." 


IN  CAMP  247 

After  some  further  conversation,  Lloyd  was  called 
up  to  meet  the  officers,  and  it  was  agreed  that  Hero 
should  be  taken  over  to  the  camp  for  a  trial  on  the 
day  the  sham  battle  was  to  take  place. 

"  The  day  has  not  yet  been  definitely  determined," 
said  the  Colonel,  "  but  I'll  send  you  word  as  soon  as 
it  is.  By  the  way,  my  orderly  was  once  a  young 
Prussian  officer,  and,  I  think,  came  from  near  Co- 
blenz.  He'll  welcome  Hero  like  a  long-lost  brother, 
for  he  has  a  soft  spot  in  his  heart  for  anything  con- 
nected with  the  Fatherland.  I'll  send  him  over 
either  this  evening  or  to-morrow." 

That  evening  the  orderly  rode  over  to  bring  word 
that  the  sham  battle  would  take  place  the  following 
Thursday,  and  they  were  all  invited  to  witness  it. 
Hero's  trial  would  take  place  immediately  after 
the  battle.  While  he  stood  talking  to  Mrs.  Walton 
and  Miss  Allison,  Lloyd  and  Kitty  came  running 
down  the  hill  with  Hero  close  behind  them. 

The  orderly  turned  with  an  exclamation  of  admi- 
ration as  the  dog  came  toward  him,  and  held  out  his 
hand  with  a  friendly  snap  of  the  fingers.  "Ah,  old 
comrade,"  he  called  out  in  German,  in  a  deep,  hearty 
voice.  "  Come,  give  me  a  greeting !  I,  too,  am  from 
the  Vaterland." 

At  sound  of  the  familiar  speech,  the  dog  went  for. 


248  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

ward,  wagging  his  tail  violently,  as  if  he  recognised 
an  old  acquaintance.  Then  he  stopped  and  snuffed 
his  boots  in  a  puzzled  manner,  and  looked  up  wist- 
fully into  the  orderly's  face.  It  was  a  stranger  he 
gazed  at,  yet  voice,  speech,  and  appearance  were  like 
the  man's  who  had  trained  him  from  a  puppy,  and 
he  gave  a  wriggle  of  pleasure  when  the  big  hand 
came  down  on  his  head,  and  the  deep  voice  spoke 
caressingly  to  him. 

When  the  orderly  mounted  his  horse,  Hero  would 
have  followed  had  not  the  Little  Colonel  called  him 
sharply,  grieved  and  jealous  that  he  should  show 
such  marked  interest  in  a  stranger.  He  turned 
back  at  her  call,  but  stood  in  the  road,  looking  after 
his  new-found  friend,  till  horse  and  rider  disap- 
peared down  the  bridle-path  that  led  through  the 
deep  woods  to  the  other  camp. 


CHAPTER   XV. 
THE  SENTRY'S  MISTAKE 

PROMPTLY  on  Thursday,  at  the  time  appointed, 
the  orderly  rode  over  to  Camp  Walton  to  escort  the 
party  back  to  the  camp  at  Calkin's  Cliff.  The  four 
boys  led  the  way  on  their  ponies  ;  the  rest  piled  into 
a  great  farm  wagon  filled  with  straw,  that  had  been 
procured  from  one  of  the  neighbouring  farms  for  the 
occasion. 

Hero  followed  obediently,  when  the  Little  Colonel 
ordered  him  to  jump  up  beside  her,  but  he  turned 
longing  eyes  on  the  orderly,  whom  he  had  welcomed 
with  strong  marks  of  pleasure.  It  was  only  their 
second  meeting,  but  Hero  seemed  to  regard  him  as 
an  old  friend.  He  leaped  up  to  lick  his  face,  and 
bounded  around  him  with  quick,  short  barks  of 
pleasure  that,  for  the  moment,  gave  Lloyd  a  jealous 
pang.  She  was  hurt  that  Hero  should  show  such  an 
evident  desire  to  follow  him  in  preference  to  her. 

"  I  don't  see  what  makes  Hero  act  so,"  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Walton. 

249 


2$O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

"  The  orderly  certainly  must  bear  a  strong  resem- 
blance to  some  one  whom  Hero  knew  and  loved  in 
Coblenz,"  she  replied.  "  You  have  owned  him  less 
than  two  months,  and  he  has  been  away  from  Co- 
blenz only  a  year,  you  must  remember.  Everything 
must  seem  strange  to  him  here.  He  was  not 
brought  up  to  play  with  children,  as  many  St.  Ber- 
nards are. 

"The  other  night,  at  the  entertainment,  I  won- 
dered many  times  what  Hero  must  think  of  his 
strange  surroundings.  His  life  here  is  different  in 
every  way  from  all  that  he  has  been  used  to.  A 
dog  trained  from  puppyhood  to  the  experiences  of 
soldier  life  would  naturally  miss  the  excitement  of 
camp  as  much  as  a  soldier  suddenly  retired  to  the 
life  ot  a  private  citizen." 

"  Oh,  deah !  "  sighed  Lloyd,  "  I  wish  he  could  talk. 
I'd  ask  him  if  he  is  unhappy.  Are  you  homesick, 
old  fellow?" 

She  took  his  great  head  between  her  little  hands 
and  looked  earnestly  into  his  eyes  as  she  asked  the 
question. 

"Do  you  wish  you  were  back  in  the  German  army, 
following  the  ambulances  and  hunting  the  wounded 
soldiahs?  Seems  to  me  you  ought  to  like  it  so 
much  bettah  heah  in  Kentucky,  with  nothing  to  do 


THE  SENTRY'S  MISTAKE  2$l 

but  play  and  eat  and  sleep,  and  be  loved  by  every- 
body." 

"  But  an  army  dog  can't  get  away  from  his  train- 
ing any  easier  than  a  man,"  laughed  the  orderly,  as 
he  rode  on  beside  the  wagon.  "  It  is  a  part  of  him. 
Hero  is  a  good  soldier,  and  no  doubt  feels  a  greater 
joy  in  obeying  what  he  considers  a  call  to  duty,  than 
in  riding  in  the  wagon  at  his  ease,  with  the  ladies." 

"You  know  a  great  deal,  perhaps,  of  this  society 
for  the  training  of  ambulance  dogs,"  said  Mrs. 
Walton. 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "I  am  deeply  interested  in 
it.  My  brother  at  home  keeps  me  informed  of  its 
movements,  and  has  written  me  much  of  Herr 
Bungartz's  methods.  I  think  I  shall  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  putting  the  dog  through  his  manoeuvres, 
especially  as  he  seems  to  recognise  me  and  in  some 
way  connect  me  with  his  past  life." 

Fife  and  drum  welcomed  the  party  as  they  drove 
into  camp,  and  the  party  were  at  once  escorted  to 
seats  where  they  could  watch  the  drill  and  the  sham 
battle.  It  was  a  familiar  scene  to  the  General's 
little  family,  and  to  Miss  Allison,  who  had  visited 
more  than  one  army  post.  But  some  of  the  girls 
put  their  fingers  in  their  ears  when  the  noise  of  the 
rapid  firing  began.  Hero  was  greatly  excited. 


252  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HERO 

Soon  after  the  noise  of  the  sham  battle  ceased, 
the  field  was  prepared  for  the  dog's  trial.  Men  were 
hidden  behind  logs,  stretched  out  in  ditches,  and  left 
lying  as  if  dead,  in  the  dense  thicket  that  skirted 
one  side  of  the  field,  for  wounded  animals,  either 
men  or  beasts,  instinctively  crawl  away  to  die  under 
cover. 

With  hands  almost  trembling  in  their  eagerness, 
Lloyd  fastened  the  flask  and  shoulder-bags  on  the 
dog.  He  seemed  to  know  that  something  unusual 
was  expected  of  him,  and  wagged  his  tail  so  violently 
that  he  nearly  upset  the  Little  Colonel.  He  watched 
every  movement  of  the  orderly,  who,  with  a  Red 
Cross  brassard  on  his  arm,  was  acting  as  chief  of  the 
improvised  ambulance  corps. 

"  Will  you  give  him  the  order,  Miss  Lloyd  ? "  he 
asked,  turning  politely  to  the  little  girl.  Lloyd  had 
pictured  this  moment  several  times  on  the  way  over, 
thinking  how  proud  she  would  be  to  stand  up  like  a 
real  Little  Colonel  and  send  her  orders  ringing  over 
the  field  before  the  whole  admiring  regiment.  But 
now  that  the  moment  had  actually  come,  she  blushed 
and  shrank  back  timidly.  She  was  not  sure  that  she 
could  say  the  strange  German  words  just  as  the 
Major  had  taught  them  to  her,  when  such  a  crowd 
of  soldiers  were  standing  by  to  hear. 


THE  SENTRY'S  MISTAKE  2$3 

"  Oh,  you  do  it,  please,"  she  asked. 

"  If  you  will  tell  me  the  exact  words  he  has  been 
accustomed  to  hearing,"  answered  the  orderly. 

Lloyd  stammered  them  out,  greatly  embarrassed, 
feeling  that  her  pronunciation  must  have  grown 
quite  faulty  from  lack  of  practice  under  the  Major's 
careful  training.  The  orderly  repeated  them  in  an 
undertone,  then,  turning  to  Hero,  gave  the  order  in  a 
clear,  deep  voice,  that  seemed  to  thrill  the  dog  with 
its  familiar  ring.  Instantly  at  the  sound  he  started 
out  across  the  field.  Not  a  thing  that  had  been 
taught  him  in  his  long,  careful  training  was  for- 
gotten. 

The  first  man  he  found  was  lying  in  a  ditch, 
apparently  desperately  wounded.  Hero  allowed  him 
to  help  himself  from  his  flask,  and  drag  a  bandage 
from  the  bags  on  his  back.  Then,  standing  with  his 
hind  feet  in  the  ditch  and  his  fore  feet  resting  on  the 
bank  above  him,  he  gave  voice  until  the  men  by  the 
ambulance  heard  him,  and  came  toward  him  carrying 
a  stretcher. 

"  Look  at  him  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Walton,  who  with 
the  party  and  several  of  the  officers  had  walked  down 
to  the  hospital  tent.  "  He  knows  he  has  done  his 
duty  well.  Did  you  ever  see  a  dog  manifest  such 
delight !  He  fairly  wriggles  with  joy !  " 


254  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

The  praise  of  the  men  bearing  the  stretcher,  and 
especially  of  the  orderly,  seemed  to  send  the  dog 
into  a  transport  of  happiness.  The  second  man  lay 
far  on  the  outskirts  of  the  field,  hidden  by  a  thicket 
of  hazel  bushes.  This  time  Hero's  frantic  barking 
brought  no  reply.  The  men  acted  as  if  deaf  to  his 
appeals  of  help,  so  in  a  few  minutes,  evidently  think- 
ing they  were  beyond  the  range  of  his  voice,  he 
picked  up  the  man's  cap  in  his  mouth,  and  ran  back 
at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

"  Good  dog !  "  said  the  orderly,  taking  the  cap  he 
dropped  at  his  feet.  "Go  back  now  and  lead  the 
way." 

"  If  that  man  had  really  been  wounded,  and  had 
crawled  under  that  thicket,"  said  Colonel  Wayne,  "we 
never  could  have  found  him  alone.  Only  the  sense 
of  smell  could  lead  to  such  a  hiding-place.  The 
ambulance  might  have  passed  there  a  hundred  times 
and  never  seen  a  trace  of  him." 

The  hunt  went  on  for  some  time ;  before  it  closed, 
every  man  personating  a  killed  or  wounded  soldier 
was  located  and  carried  to  the  hospital  tent.  When 
the  tired  dog  was  finally  allowed  to  rest,  he  dropped 
down  at  the  orderly's  feet,  panting. 

"  That  was  certainly  fine  work,"  said  the  Colonel, 
stooping  to  pat  Hero's  sides.  "I  suppose  nothing 


THE  SENTRY'S  MISTAKE  2$$ 

could  induce  you  to  give  him  up  to  the  army  ? "  he 
asked,  turning  to  Lloyd. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  "  cried  Lloyd,  as  if  alarmed  at 
the  suggestion,  and  pressing  Hero's  head  protect- 
ingly  against  her  shoulder.  If  she  had  been  proud 
of  him  before,  she  was  doubly  proud  of  him  now. 
He  had  won  the  admiration  of  the  entire  regiment. 
Never  had  he  been  so  praised  and  petted.  When 
Mrs.  Walton  called  her  party  together  for  their 
homeward  drive,  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  Hero 
was  loath  to  leave  the  camp.  A  word  from  the 
orderly  would  have  kept  him,  despite  Lloyd's  com- 
mands to  jump  up  into  the  wagon. 

As  the  boys  rode  on  ahead  again,  Keith  said,  "  It 
does  seem  too  bad  to  force  that  dog  into  being  a 
private  citizen  when  he  is  a  born  soldier." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  Colonel  Wayne  told  mamma 
as  we  left  ? "  asked  Ranald.  "  He  told  her  that  it 
was  reported  that  some  of  the  animals  had  escaped 
from  the  circus  that  was  in  Louisville  yesterday,  and 
that  a  panther  and  some  other  kind  of  a  beast  had 
been  seen  in  these  woods.  He  laughed  and  asked 
her  if  she  didn't  want  him  to  send  a  guard  over  to 
our  camp.  Of  course  he  was  only  joking,  but  when 
she  saw  that  I  had  heard  what  he  said,  she  told  me 
not  to  tell  the  girls;  not  to  even  mention  such  a 


256  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

thing,  or  they'd  be  so  frightened  they'd  want  to 
break  camp  and  go  straight  home." 

"It  would  be  fun  to  scare  them,"  said  Rob,  "but 
you'd  better  believe  I'll  not  say  anything  if  there's 
any  danger  of  having  to  go  home  sooner  on  account 
of  it." 

0  We've  got  to  go  day  after  to-morrow  anyhow," 
said  Keith,  gloomily.  "  I  wish  I  could  miss  another 
week  of  school,  but  I  know  papa  wouldn't  let  me, 
even  if  the  camp  didn't  break  up." 

"Come  on!"  called  Ranald,  who  had  pushed 
on  ahead.  "Let's  hurry  back  and  have  a  good 
swim  before  supper." 

Not  satisfied  with  the  excitement  of  the  day,  the 
girls  were  no  sooner  out  of  the  wagon  than  some  one 
started  a  wild  game  of  prisoners'  base.  Then  they 
played  hide-and-seek  among  the  rocks  and  trees 
around  the  waterfall,  and  while  they  were  wiping 
their  flushed  faces,  panting  after  the  long  run,  Kitty 
proposed  that  they  should  have  a  candy  pulling. 

Dinah  made  the  candy,  but  the  girls  pulled  it, 
running  a  race  to  see  whose  would  be  the  whitest  in 
a  given  time.  Their  arms  ached  long  before  they 
were  done.  By  the  time  the  boys  came  stumbling 
up  the  hill  from  their  long  swim  hi  the  creek,  it 
would  be  hard  to  say  which  group  was  most  tired. 


THE  SENTRY'S  MISTAKE  2$? 

"  I'm  sure  we'll  all  want  to  turn  in  early  to-night," 
said  Mrs.  Walton  at  supper.  Freddy  was  yawning 
widely,  and  Elise  was  almost  asleep  over  her  plate. 
"  You  are  all  tired." 

"  All  but  Hero,"  said  Miss  Allison,  offering  him 
a  chicken  bone.  "He  rested  while  the  others 
played.  You'd  like  to  go  through  your  game  every 
day.  Wouldn't  you,  old  boy  ? " 

There  was  no  story-telling  around  the  camp-fire 
that  night.  They  gathered  around  it,  even  before 
the  light  died  out  in  the  sky.  Ranald  had  his  guitar 
and  Allison  her  mandolin,  and  they  thrummed  ac- 
companiments awhile  for  the  others  to  sing.  But  a 
mighty  yawn  catching  Margery  in  the  middle  of  a 
verse,  and  Mrs.  Walton  discovering  both  Jamie  and 
Freddy  sound  asleep  on  the  rug  beside  her,  she  pro- 
posed that  they  all  go  to  bed  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual. 

The  Little  Captain  vowed  he  was  too  sleepy  to 
blow  a  single  toot  on  his  bugle,  so  they  went  to 
their  tents  without  the  usual  sounding  of  taps.  It 
was  not  long  before  every  child  was  asleep,  worn 
out  by  the  day's  hard  play.  Mrs.  Walton  lay  awake 
sometime  listening  to  the  sounds  outside  the  tent. 
The  crackling  of  underbrush  and  rustle  of  dry  leaves 
was  familiar  enough  in  the  daytime,  but  they  seemed 


258  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

strangely  ominous  now  that  the  lights  were  out. 
She  could  not  help  thinking  of  what  the  Colonel  had 
told  her  of  the  escaped  panther.  She  imagined  the 
panic  it  would  make  if  it  should  suddenly  appear  in 
their  midst.  Then  she  thought  of  Hero's  protecting 
presence,  and,  raising  herself  on  her  elbow,  she 
looked  across  the  tent  to  where  she  knew  he  lay 
asleep.  At  first  she  could  not  see  even  the  ruff  of 
white  that  made  the  collar  around  his  tawny  throat, 
for  the  moon  had  slipped  behind  a  cloud,  but  as  she 
raised  herself  on  her  elbow,  and  peered  intently 
through  the  darkness,  the  faint  misty  light  shone 
out  again,  and  she  saw  Hero  plainly,  the  Little  Colo- 
nel's outstretched  hand  resting  on  his  broad  back. 
Then  she  lay  down  again,  this  time  to  sleep,  and 
soon  all  the  little  camp  was  wrapped  in  the  peace 
and  rest  of  perfect  silence. 

Half  an  hour  later  Hero  lifted  his  head  from 
between  his  paws  and  listened.  Something  seemed 
calling  him.  He  did  not  know  what.  Being  only 
a  dog,  he  could  not  analyse  the  thoughts  passing 
through  his  brain.  A  restlessness  seized  him.  He 
longed  to  be  back  among  the  familiar  sights  and 
sounds  of  soldier  life.  This  little  play  camp,  where 
children  tried  to  make  him  romp  continually,  was 
not  home.  Locust  was  not  home.  This  strange 


THE   SENTRY'S  MISTAKE  259 

new  country  full  of  unfamiliar  faces  and  foreign 
voices  was  not  home.  But  the  orderly's  voice  re- 
minded him  of  it.  Over  there  were  bearded  men  and 
deep  voices,  and  strong  hands,  guns,  and  the  smell 
of  powder;  fife  and  drum,  and  canteens  and  knap- 
sacks; things  that  he  had  seen  daily  in  his  soldier 
life. 

Was  it  some  call  to  duty  that  thrilled  him,  or  only 
a  homesick  longing  ?  As  he  listened  with  head  up, 
there  came  ringing,  clear  and  silvery  through  the 
night,  the  bugle  notes  from  the  other  camp.  At 
the  first  sound  Hero  was  on  his  feet.  He  moved 
noiselessly  toward  the  tent  flap,  only  partially  fas- 
tened, and  flattening  himself  against  the  ground 
wriggled  out. 

And  if  he  gave  no  thought  to  the  little  mistress 
dreaming  inside  the  tent,  if  he  left  without  regret 
the  life  of  ease  and  loving  care  to  which  she  had 
brought  him,  it  was  not  because  he  was  ungrateful, 
but  because  he  did  not  understand.  To  him  his  old 
life  woke  and  called  him  in  the  bugle's  blowing.  To 
him  duty  did  not  mean  soft  cushions,  and  idle  days, 
and  the  following  of  a  happy-hearted  child  at  play. 
It  meant  long  marches  and  the  guarding  of  ambu- 
lances and  the  rescue  of  the  dead  and  dying.  A  true 
soldier's  heart  beat  in  the  dog's  shaggy  body,  and, 


260  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

obedient  to  his  instinct  and  training,  he  answered  the 
summons  when  it  sounded.  With  long,  swinging 
steps  he  set  out  in  the  direction  of  the  bugle-call, 
taking  the  road  through  the  woods  that  the  wagon 
had  travelled  that  day,  and  down  which  he  had 
watched  the  orderly  disappear.  No,  not  deserting 
his  duty,  but,  as  he  understood  it,  hurrying  back  with 
faithful  heart  to  the  cause  that  had  always  claimed 
him. 

Now  and  then  the  moon,  coming  out  fitfully  from 
behind  the  clouds,  shone  on  his  great  tawny  body, 
touching  the  white  curls  of  his  ruff  with  a  line  of 
silver.  Then  he  would  be  lost  in  darkness  again. 
But  he  swung  on  unerringly,  until  he  was  almost  in 
sight  of  the  camp.  A  little  farther  on  a  sentry 
paced  up  and  down  the  picket-line  that  ran  along 
the  edge  of  the  woods.  Hero  travelled  on  toward 
him,  the  dry  dead  leaves  rustling  under  his  paws, 
and  now  and  then  a  twig  crackling  with  his  weight. 

The  sentry  paused  and  listened,  wondering  what 
kind  of  an  animal  was  coming  toward  him  in  the 
darkness. 

"Halt!  Who  goes  there?"  he  called,  sharply. 
The  moon,  peeping  out  at  that  instant,  seemed  to 
magnify  the  size  of  the  great  creature  in  his  path. 
He  thought  of  the  panther  and  the  other  wild  beast, 


THE  SENTRY'S  MISTAKE  26 1 

whatever  it  was,  supposed  to  be  roaming  about  in  the 
woods.  Then  the  moon  disappeared  as  suddenly  as 
it  had  lighted  up  the  scene,  and  the  big  paws  still 
pattered  on  toward  him  in  the  darkness,  regardless 
of  his  repeated  challenge. 

As  the  underbrush  crackled  again  with  the  weight 
of  the  great  body  now  almost  upon  him,  the  sentry 
raised  his  rifle.  A  shot  rang  out,  arousing  the  camp 
not  yet  fully  settled  to  sleep.  The  echo  bounded 
back  from  the  startled  hills,  and  rolled  away  over  the 
peaceful  farms  and  orchards,  growing  fainter  and 
fainter,  until  only  a  whisper  of  it  reached  the  white 
tent  where  the  Little  Colonel  lay  dreaming.  Then 
the  moon  shone  out  again,  and  the  sentry,  going  a 
few  paces  forward,  looked  down  in  horror  at  the 
silent  form  stretched  out  at  his  feet. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

" TAPS " 

THE  corporal  of  the  guard  went  running  in  the 
direction  of  the  shot,  and  here  and  there  an  inquir- 
ing head  was  thrust  out  of  a  tent. 

"  Only  a  dog  shot,  sir,"  he  was  heard  to  call  out 
in  answer  to  some  officer's  question,  as  he  passed 
back  down  the  line.  "Sentry  took  him  for  a  wild 
beast  escaped  from  the  show." 

Somebody  laughed  in  reply,  and  the  men  who  had 
been  aroused  by  the  noise  turned  over  and  went  to 
sleep.  They  did  not  know  that  the  corporal  hurried 
on  down  to  the  guard-house,  and  that  as  a  result  of 
his  report  there  was  a  hasty  summons  for  the  sur- 
geon. They  did  not  know  that  it  was  Hero  whom 
the  sentry  bent  over,  gulping  down  a  feeling  in  his 
throat  that  nearly  choked  him,  as  he  saw  the  blood 
welling  out  of  the  dog's  shaggy  white  breast,  and 
slowly  stiffening  the  silky  hair  of  his  beautiful 
yellow  coat. 

The  surgeon  knelt  down  beside  the  dog,  and  as 


"  TAPS"  263 

the  clouds  hid  the  moon  again,  he  turned  the  light 
of  his  lantern  on  the  wound  for  a  careful  examination. 

"  That  was  a  cracking  good  shot,  Bently,"  he  said. 
"  He  never  knew  what  stopped  him." 

The  sentry  turned  his  head  away.  "  I  wouldn't 
have  been  the  one  to  take  that  dog's  life  for  anything 
in  the  world !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I'd  pretty  near  as 
soon  have  killed  a  man.  It  never  entered  my  head 
that  any  tame  animal  would  come  leaping  out  of  the 
woods  that  way  at  this  time  of  night.  He  loomed 
up  nearly  as  big  as  a  lion  when  the  moon  shone  out 
on  him.  The  next  minute  it  was  all  dark  again,  and 
I  heard  his  big  soft  feet  come  pattering  through  the 
leaves,  straight  on  toward  me.  It  flashed  over  me 
that  it  must  be  one  of  those  escaped  circus  animals, 
so  I  just  let  loose  and  blazed  away  at  him." 

The  surgeon  stood  up  and  looked  down  at  the  still 
form  at  his  feet.  "  It's  too  bad,"  he  said.  "  He 
was  a  grand  old  dog,  the  finest  St.  Bernard  I  ever 
saw.  How  that  little  girl  loved  him !  It  will  just 
about  break  her  heart  when  she  finds  out  what's 
happened  to  him." 

"  Don't !  "  begged  the  sentry,  huskily.  "  Don't  say 
anything  like  that.  I  feel  bad  enough  about  it  now, 
goodness  knows,  without  your  harrowing  up  my  feel- 
ings, talking  of  the  way  she's  going  to  feel." 


264  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

As  the  surgeon  started  on,  the  sentry  stopped  him. 
"  For  heaven's  sake,  Mac,  don't  leave  him  lying  there 
on  the  picket-line  where  I've  got  to  see  him  every 
time  I  pass.  Send  somebody  to  take  him  away. 
I'm  all  unnerved.  I  feel  as  if  I'd  shot  one  of  my 
own  comrades." 

The  surgeon  looked  at  him  curiously  and  walked 
on.  Nobody  was  sent  to  take  the  dog  away,  but  a 
little  while  later  the  sentry  was  relieved  from  duty, 
and  another  soldier  kept  guard  over  the  silent  camp, 
pacing  back  and  forth  past  the  Red  Cross  Hero, 
sleeping  his  last  sleep  under  the  light  of  the  sentinel 
stars. 

Somebody  draped  a  flag  across  him  before  the 
camp  was  astir  next  morning.  "  Well,  why  not  ? " 
the  man  asked  when  he  was  joked  about  paying  so 
much  attention  to  a  dead  dog.  "Why  not?  He 
was  a  war  dog,  wasn't  he  ?  It's  no  more  than  his 
due.  I  was  the  man  he  found  in  the  ditch  yesterday. 
As  far  as  his  intention  and  good  will  went,  he  did  as 
much  to  save  me  as  if  I  had  been  really  lying  there 
a  wounded  soldier.  When  he  came  leaping  down 
there  into  the  ditch  after  me,  licking  my  face  in  such 
a  friendly  fashion  and  holding  still  so  that  I  could 
help  myself  to  the  flask  and  bandages,  I  thought 
how  grateful  a  fellow  would  feel  to  him  if  he  were 


"  TAPS"  265 

really  rescued  by  him  that  way.  It  was  all  make- 
believe  to  me,  but  it  was  dead  earnest  to  the  dog, 
and  he  did  his  part  as  faithfully  as  any  soldier  who 
ever  wore  a  uniform." 

"  You're  right,"  said  a  young  lieutenant,  sitting 
near.  "  If  for  no  other  reason  than  that  he  was  in 
the  service  of  the  Red  Cross,  he  has  a  right  to  the 
respect  of  every  man  that  calls  himself  a  soldier,  no 
matter  what  flag  he  follows." 

Later  in  the  morning,  when  the  orderly  rode  into 
the  little  picnic  camp,  the  girls  were  away.  They 
were  down  by  the  waterfall  digging  ferns  and  mosses 
to  take  home.  "We  are  thinking  of  breaking  up 
camp  this  afternoon,"  Mrs.  Walton  told  him.  "  The 
weather  looks  so  threatening  that  I  have  sent  for  the 
wagonette  to  come  for  us,  and  I  was  about  to  send 
over  to  your  camp  to  see  if  Hero  had  wandered  back 
there.  He  has  not  been  seen  since  last  night.  He 
was  lying  by  Lloyd's  cot  just  before  I  went  to  sleep, 
but  this  morning  he  is  nowhere  to  be  found.  Lloyd 
is  distressed.  I  told  her  that  probably  the  drill  yes- 
terday awakened  all  his  love  for  the  old  life,  and  that 
he  might  have  been  drawn  back  to  it.  Was  I  right  ? 
Have  you  seen  him  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  orderly,  hesitating.  "  I  saw  him, 
but  I  find  it  hard  to  tell  you  how  and  where,  Mrs. 


266  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

Walton."  He  paused  again,  and  then  hurried  on 
with  the  explanation,  as  if  anxious  to  have  it  over  as 
soon  as  possible. 

"  He  was  shot  last  night  by  mistake  on  the  picket- 
line.  The  sentry  is  all  broken  up  over  it,  poor  fel- 
low, and  the  whole  camp  regrets  it  more  than  I  can 
tell.  You  see,  after  yesterday's  performance  we 
almost  claimed  the  dog  as  one  of  us.  Colonel 
Wayne  has  made  me  the  bearer  of  his  deepest  regrets. 
He  especially  deplores  the  occurrence  on  account  of 
the  dog's  little  mistress,  knowing  what  a  great  grief 
it  will  be  to  her.  He  wishes,  if  you  think  it  will  be 
any  consolation  to  her,  to  give  Hero  a  military 
funeral,  and  bury  him  with  the  honours  due  a  brave 
soldier." 

"  I  am  sure  that  Lloyd  will  want  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Walton.  "  She  will  appreciate  it  deeply,  when  she 
understands  what  a  mark  of  respect  to  Hero  such 
an  attention  would  be.  Tell  Colonel  Wayne,  please, 
that  I  gladly  accept  the  offer  in  her  behalf,  and  will 
send  Ranald  over  later,  to  arrange  for  it." 

The  orderly  rode  away,  and  Mrs.  Walton  turned 
to  her  sister,  exclaiming,  "  Poor  little  Lloyd  !  I  con- 
fess I  am  not  brave  enough  to  face  her  grief  when 
she  first  hears  the  news.  You  will  have  to  tell  her, 
Allison.  You  know  her  so  much  better  than  I. 


«  TAPS"  267 

We  might  as  well  hurry  the  preparations  for  leaving. 
No  one  will  care  to  stay  a  moment  longer,  now  this 
has  happened.  It  will  cast  a  gloom  over  the  entire 
party." 

"Maybe  it  would  be  better  not  to  tell  her  until 
after  she  gets  home,"  suggested  Miss  Allison.  She 
had  soothed  the  childish  griefs  of  nearly  every  child 
in  the  Valley,  at  some  time  or  another,  but  she  felt 
that  this  was  the  most  serious  one  that  had  fallen  fr* 
her  lot  to  comfort. 

"  I'm  sure  it  would  be  impossible  to  get  Lloyd 
away  from  here  without  Hero,  unless  she  knew,"  was 
the  answer.  "  I  heard  her  tell  Kitty  this  morning 
that  nobody  could  make  her  go  without  him.  She 
said  if  he  wasn't  back  by  the  time  we  were  ready  to 
start,  we  could  go  on  without  her,  and  she  would 
hunt  for  him  if  it  took  all  fall." 

While  they  were  still  discussing  it  the  boys  came 
running  back  to  camp  much  excited.  They  had  met 
the  orderly. 

"  Oh,  the  poor  dog !  "  mourned  Keith.  "  What  a 
shame  for  the  poor  old  fellow  to  be  shot  down  that 
way.  It  seems  almost  as  bad  as  if  it  had  been  one  of 
us  boys  that  was  killed." 

Ranald  and  Rob  joined  in  with  praise  of  his  many 
lovable  traits,  talking  of  his  death  as  if  it  were 


268  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HERO 

a  lifelong  friend  they  had  lost ;  but  Malcolm  turned 
away  with  an  anxious  glance  to  the  woods,  where  he 
could  hear  the  laughing  voices  of  the  girls. 

"Poor  little  Princess  Winsome,"  he  thought.  "  It 
will  nearly  break  her  heart,"  and  he  wished  with  all 
the  earnestness  of  the  real  Sir  Feal,  that  by  some 
knightly  service,  no  matter  how  hard,  he  could  save 
his  little  friend  from  this  sorrow. 

The  girls  came  strolling  up,  presently,  so  occupied 
with  their  spoils  that  no  one  noticed  the  boys'  seri- 
ous faces  but  Lloyd.  The  moment  she  caught 
Malcolm's  sympathetic  glance  she  was  sure  some- 
thing had  happened  to  Hero. 

"  Oh,  what  is  it  ? "  she  began,  the  tears  gathering 
in  her  eyes  as  she  felt  the  unspoken  sympathy  of  the 
little  group.  Leaving  Mrs.  Walton  to  tell  the  other 
girls,  Miss  Allison  drew  Lloyd  aside,  saying  as  she 
led  her  down  toward  the  spring,  an  arm  around  her 
waist,  "  I  have  a  message  for  you,  Lloyd,  from 
Colonel  Wayne.  Let's  go  down  to  the  rocks  by 
ourselves." 

A  sympathetic  silence  fell  on  the  little  circle  left 
behind  as  they  heard  Lloyd  cry  out,  "  Shot  my  dog  ? 
Shot  Hero?  Oh,  he  ought  to  be  killed!  How 
could  he  do  such  a  cruel  thing !  " 

"  But  he  feels  dreadfully  about  it,"  said  Miss  Alii- 


« TAPS"  269 

son.  "  The  orderly  said  that,  big,  strong  man  though 
he  was,  the  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  when  he  saw  what 
he  had  done,  and  he  kept  saying,  '  I  wouldn't  have 
done  it  for  the  world.' " 

Nearly  all  the  girls  were  crying  by  this  time,  and 
Malcolm  turned  his  head  so  that  he  could  not  see 
the  fair  little  head  pressed  against  Miss  Allison's 
shoulder,  as  she  clung  to  her  sobbing. 

"  Think  how  it  must  have  hurt  poah  Hero's  feel- 
in's,"  Lloyd  was  saying,  "  to  go  back  to  their  camp 
so  trustin'  and  happy,  thinkin'  the  men  would  be 
so  glad  to  see  him,  and  that  he  was  doin'  his  duty, 
and  then  to  have  one  of  them  stand  up  and  send 
a  bullet  through  his  deah,  lovin'  old  heart.  Oh,  I 
can't  beak  it,"  she  screamed.  "  Oh,  I  can't !  I  can't ! 
It  seems  as  if  it  would  kill  me  to  think  of  him 
lyin'  ovah  there  all  cold  and  stiff,  with  the  blood 
on  his  lovely  white  and  yellow  curls,  and  know 
that  he'll  nevah,  nevah  again  jump  up  to  lick  my 
hands,  and  put  his  paws  on  my  shouldahs.  He'll 
nevah  come  to  meet  me  any  moah,  waggin'  his  tail 
and  lookin'  up  into  my  face  with  his  deah  lovin'  eyes. 
Oh,  Miss  Allison  !  I  can't  stand  it !  It's  just  breakin' 
my  heart  !  "  Burying  her  face  in  Miss  Allison's  lap, 
she  sobbed  and  cried  until  her  tears  were  all  spent. 

It  was  a  subdued  little  party  that  rode  back  to  the 


2/O  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

Valley,  a  few  hours  later.  Not  only  sympathy  for 
Lloyd  kept  them  quiet,  but  each  one  mourned  the 
loss  of  the  gentle,  lovable  playfellow  who  had  come 
to  such  an  untimely  end  after  this  week  of  happy 
camp  life  with  them. 

Under  the  locusts  that  evening,  just  as  the  sun 
was  going  down,  came  the  tread  of  many  marching 
feet.  It  was  the  tramp,  tramp  of  the  soldiers  who 
were  bringing  home  the  Little  Colonel's  Hero.  All 
the  men  who  had  been  most  interested  in  his  per- 
formances the  day  before,  had  volunteered  to  follow 
Colonel  Wayne,  and  the  long  line  made  an  imposing 
showing,  as  it  stretched  up  the  avenue  after  him. 

Lloyd  watched  the  approach  from  her  seat  on 
the  porch  beside  her  father.  All  the  camping  party 
were  waiting  with  her,  except  the  four  boys  who  rode 
at  the  head  of  the  procession.  Ranald  and  Malcolm 
first,  then  Rob  and  Keith.  Lloyd  hid  her  eyes  as 
Lad  and  Tarbaby  came  into  view  behind  them.  »• 

"Look,"  said  her  father  gently,  pointing  to  the 
flag-draped  burden  they  drew.  "  How  much  better 
it  was  for  Hero  to  have  been  shot  by  a  soldier  and 
brought  home  with  military  honours,  than  to  have 
met  the  fate  of  an  ordinary  dog  —  been  poisoned, 
or  mangled  by  a  train,  as  might  have  happened,  or 


"TAPS"  271 

even  died  of  a  painful,  feeble  old  age.  The  Major 
would  have  chosen  this ;  so  would  Hero,  if  he  could 
have  understood." 

There  was  more  comfort  in  that  thought  than  in 
anything  that  had  been  said  to  her  before,  and  Lloyd 
wiped  her  eyes,  and  sat  up  to  watch  the  ceremony 
that  followed,  with  a  feeling  of  pride  that  made  her 
almost  cheerful. 

On  they  came  to  the  beat  of  the  muffled  drum, 
halting  under  a  great  locust-tree  that  stood  by  itself 
on  the  lawn,  in  sight  of  the  library  windows,  like 
a  giant  sentinel.  There  the  boys  dismounted  to 
lower  Hero  into  the  grave  that  Walker  and  Alec  had 
just  finished  digging.  Then  the  coloured  men,  spread- 
ing the  sod  quickly  back  in  place,  stepped  aside  from 
the  low  mound  they  had  made,  and  Lloyd  saw  that  it 
was  smooth  and  green.  She  started  violently  when 
the  soldiers,  drawn  up  in  line,  fired  a  parting  volley 
over  it,  but  sat  quietly  back  again  when  the  Little 
Captain  stepped  forward  and  raised  his  bugle.  The 
sun  was  sinking  low  behind  the  locusts,  and  in  the 
golden  glow  filling  the  western  sky,  he  softly  sounded 
taps.  "  Lights  out "  now  for  the  faithful  old  Hero  ! 
The  last  bugle-call  that  sounded  for  him  was  in 
a  foreign  land,  but  it  was  not  as  a  stranger  and 
an  alien  they  left  him. 


2/2  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

The  flag  he  followed  floats  farther  than  the  Stars 
and  Stripes,  waves  wider  than  the  banner  of  the 
Kaiser.  It  is  a  world-wide  flag,  that  flag  of  per- 
petual peace  which  bears  the  Red  Cross  of  Geneva. 
In  its  shadow,  whether  on  land  or  sea,  all  patriot 
hearts  are  at  home,  and  under  that  flag  they  left  him. 

A  square  white  stone  stands  now  under  the  locust 
where  the  Little  Captain  sounded  taps  at  the  close  of 
that  September  day.  On  it  gleams  the  Red  Cross, 
in  whose  service  all  of  Hero's  lessons  had  been 
learned.  But  the  daily  sight  of  it  from  her  bedroom 
window  no  longer  brings  pain  to  the  Little  Colonel. 
Hero  is  only  a  tender  memory  now,  and  she  counts 
the  Red  Cross  above  him  as  another  talisman,  like 
the  little  ring  and  the  silver  scissors,  to  remind 
her  that  only  through  unselfish  service  to  others  can 
one  reach  the  happiness  that  is  highest  and  best. 

Time  flies  fast  under  the  locusts.  Sometimes  to 
Papa  Jack  it  seems  only  yesterday  that  she  clattered 
up  and  down  the  wide  halls  with  her  grandfather's 
spurs  buckled  to  her  tiny  feet.  But  if  he  misses  the 
charm  of  the  baby  voice  that  called  to  him  then,  or 
the  childish  mischievousness  of  his  Little  Colonel, 
he  finds  a  greater  one  in  the  flower-like  beauty  of 
the  tall,  slender  girl  who  stands  beside  the  gilded 


«  TAPS"  273 

harp,  and  sings  to  him  softly  in  the  candle-light. 
And  it  is  Betty's  song  of  service  that  is  oftenest  on 
her  lips : 

"  My  godmother  bids  me  spin, 

That  my  heart  may  not  be  sad ; 
Sing  and  spin  for  my  brother's  sake, 
And  the  spinning  makes  me  glad." 

She  knows  that  she  can  never  be  a  Joan  of  Arc 
or  a  Clara  Barton,  and  her  name  will  never  be  written 
in  America's  hall  of  fame,  but  with  the  sweet  am- 
bition in  her  heart  to  make  life  a  little  lovelier  for 
every  one  she  touches,  she  is  growing  up  into  a 
veritable  Princess  Winsome. 

Often  as  she  sings,  Betty  closes  her  book  to  listen, 
thrilled  with  the  old  feeling  that  always  comes  with 
the  music  of  the  harp.  It  is  as  if  she  were  "  away 
off  from  everything,  and  high  up  where  it  is 
wide  and  open,  and  where  the  stars  are."  The 
strange,  beautiful  thoughts  she  can  find  no  words 
for  still  dance  on  ahead,  like  shining  will-'o-the- 
wisps,  but  she  knows  that  she  shall  surely  find 
words  for  them  some  day,  and  that  many  besides  the 
Little  Colonel  will  sing  her  verses  and  find  comfort 
in  her  songs. 

To  both  Betty  and  Lloyd  the  land  of  Someday 
and  the  happy  land  of  Now  lie  very  close  together 


2/4  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HERO 

in  their  day-dreams,  as  side  by  side  they  go  to  school 
these  bright  October  mornings,  or  stroll  slowly  home- 
ward in  the  golden  afternoons,  under  the  shade  of 
the  friendly  old  locusts. 


THE   END. 


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In  this  series  of  six  little  Nature  books,  it  is  the  author's  in- 
tention so  to  present  to  the  child  reader  the  facts  about  each 
particular  flower,  insect,  bird,  or  animal,  in  story  form,  as  to 
make  delightful  reading.  Classical  legends,  myths,  poems,  and 
songs  are  so  introduced  as  to  correlate  fully  with  these  lessons, 
to  which  the  excellent  illustrations  are  no  little  help. 

THE  WOODRANGER  TALES 

By  G.   WALDO  BROWNE 

The  Wood  ranger. 
The  Young  Qunbearer. 
The  Hero  of  the  Hills. 
With  Rogers'  Rangers. 

Each  i  vol.,  large  i  amo,  cloth,  decorative  cover,  illustrated, 
per  volume  .         .        .        .         .         .        .         .     $1.25 

Four  vols.,  boxed,  per  set     .         ...        .       5.00 

"  The  Woodranger  Tales,"  like  the  "  Pathfinder  Tale*  "  of  J. 
Fenimore  Cooper,  combine  historical  information  relating  t« 
early  pioneer  days  in  America  with  interesting  adventures  in 
the  backwoods.  Although  the  same  characters  are  continued 
throughout  the  series,  each  book  is  complete  in  itself,  and,  while 
based  strictly  on  historical  facts,  is  an  interesting  and  exciting 
tale  of  adventure. 
D-7 


L.    C.  PAGE  AND    COMPANY 


Born    tO  the    Blue.      By   FLORENCE   KIMBALI, 

RUSSEL. 

1 2 mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated        .         .         .     $1.25 

The  atmosphere  of  army  life  on  the  plains  breathes  on 

every  page  of  this  delightful  tale.     The  boy  is  the  son  of  a 

captain  of  U.  S.  cavalry  stationed  at  a  frontier  post  in  the 

days  when  our  regulars  earned   the  gratitude  of  a  nation. 

The  author  is  herself  "  of  the  army,"  and  knows  every 

detail  of  the  life.     Her  descriptions   are  accurate,  which 

adds  to  the  value  and  interest  of  the  book. 

PuSSy-Cat  Town.    By  MARION  AMES  TAGGART. 

Small  quarto,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  and  decorated 
in  colors $1.00 

"  Pussy-Cat  Town  "  is  a  most  unusual,  delightful  cat  story. 
Ban-Ban,  a  pure  Maltese  who  belonged  to  Rob,  Kiku-san, 
Lois's  beautiful  snow-white  pet,  and  their  neighbors  Bedelia 
the  tortoise-shell,  Madame  Laura  the  widow,  Wutz  Butz 
the  warrior,  and  wise  old  Tommy  Traddles,  were  really  and 
truly  cats,  and  Miss  Taggart  has  here  explained  the  reason 
for  their  mysterious  disappearance  all  one  long  summer. 

The  Sandman  :  His  FARM  STORIES.  By  WILL- 
IAM J.  HOPKINS.  With  fifty  illustrations  by  Ada  Clen- 
denin  Williamson. 

Large  i2mo,  decorative  cover      .         .         .         .     $1.50 
"An  amusing,  original  book,  written  for   the  benefit  of  very 

small  children.     It  should  be  one  of  the  most  popular  of  the 

year's  books  for  reading  to  small  children."  —  Buffalo  Express. 
"  Mothers  and  fathers  and  kind  elder  sisters  who  take  the 

little  ones  to  bed  and  rack  their  brains  for  stories  will  find  this 

book  a  treasure."  —  Cleveland  Leader. 

The  Sandman  :  MORE  FARM  STORIES.  By  WILL- 
IAM J.  HOPKINS. 

Large  izmo,  decorative  cover,  fully  illustrated  ,  $1.50 
Mr.  Hopkins's  first  essay  at  bedtime  stories  has  met 
with  such  approval  that  this  second  book  of  "  Sandman  " 
tales  has  been  issued  for  scores  of  eager  children.  Life  on 
the  farm,  and  out-of-doors,  is  portrayed  in  his  inimitable 
manner,  and  many  a  little  one  will  hail  the  bedtime  season 
as  one  of  delight. 


THE  LITTLE  COUSIN  SERIES 

The  most  delightful  and  interesting  accounts  possible  of 
child-life  in  other  lands,  filled  with  quaint  sayings,  doings, 
and  adventures. 

Each  i  vol.,  1 2mo,  decorative  cover,  cloth,  with  six  or 
more  full-page  illustrations  in  color. 

Price  per  volume          ......     $0.60 

By  MARY  HAZELTON    WADE  (unless    otherwit* 
indicated) 

Our  Little  African  Cousin  Our  Little  Japanese  Cousin 

Our  Little  Armenian  Cousin        Our  Little  Jewish  Cousin 


Our  Little  Brown  Cousin 

Our  Little  Canadian  Cousin 

By  Elizabeth  R.  Macdonald 

Our  Little  Chinese  Cousin 

By  Isaac  Taylor  Headland 

Our  Little  Cuban  Cousin 

Our  Little  Dutch  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  English  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Eskimo  Cousin 

Our  Little  French  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  German  Cousin 
Our  Little  Hawaiian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Indian  Cousin 
Our  Little  Irish  Cousin 

Our  Little  Italian  Cousin 
D-9 


Our  Little  Korean  Cousin 

By  H.  Lee  M.  Pike 

Our  Little  Mexican  Cousin 

By  Edward  C.  Butler 

Our  Little  Norwegian  Cousin 

Our  Little  Panama  Cousin 

By  H.  Lee  M.  Pike 

Our  Little  Philippine  Cousin 
Our  Little  Porto  Rican  Cousin 
Our  Little  Russian  Cousin 

Our  Little  Scotch  Cousin 

By  Blanche  McManus 

Our  Little  Siamese  Cousin 

Our  Little  Spanish  Cousin 

By  Mary  F.  Nixon  -  Roul«t 

Our  Little  Swedish  Cousin 

By  Claire  M.  Cobum 

Our  Little  Swiss  Cousin 
Our  Little  Turkish  Cousin 


THE  GOLDENROD  LIBRARY 

The  Goldenrod  Library  contains  only  the  highest  and 
purest  literature,  —  stories  which  appeal  alike  both  to  chil- 
dren and  to  their  parents  and  guardians. 

Each  volume  is  well  illustrated  from  drawings  by  com- 
petent artists,  which,  together  with  their  handsomely  deco- 
rated uniform  binding,  showing  the  goldenrod,  usually 
considered  the  emblem  of  America,  is  a  feature  of  their 
manufacture. 

Each  one  volume,  small  I2tno,  illustrated,  dec- 
orated cover,  paper  wrapper      .         .         .         $0.35 

LIST  OF  TITLES 

Aunt  Nabby's  Children.     By  Frances  Hodges  White. 
Child's  Dream  of  a  Star,  The.    By  Charles  Dickens. 
Flight  Of  Rosy  Dawn,  The.      By  Pauline  Bradford  Mackie. 
Findelkind.    By  Ouida. 

Fairy  of  the  Rhone,  The.     By  A.  Comyns  Carr. 
Oatty  and  I.     By  Frances  E.  Crompton. 
Great  Emergency,  A.     By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 
Helena's  Wonderworld.     By  Frances  Hodges  White. 
Jackanapes.     By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 
Jerry's  Reward.     By  Evelyn  Snead  Barnett. 
La  Belle  Nlvernaise.    By  Alphonse  Daudet. 
Little  King  Davie.     By  Nellie  Hellis. 
Little  Peterkin  Vandike.    By  Charles  Stuart  Pratt. 
Little  Professor,  The.     By  Ida  Horton  Cash. 
Pcggy'8  Trial.     By  Mary  Knight  Potter. 
Prince  Yellowtop.     By  Kate  Whiting  Patch. 
Provence  Rose,  A.    By  Ouida. 
Rab  and  His  Friends.    By  Dr.  John  Brown. 
Seventh  Daughter,  A.     By  Grace  Wickham  Curran. 
Sleeping  Beauty,  The.     By  Martha  Baker  Dunn. 
Small,  Small  Child,  A.     By  E.  Livingston  Prescott. 
Story  of  a  Short  Life,  The.     By  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 
Susanne.     By  Frances  J.  Delano. 
Water  Peopl*,  The.     By  Charles  Lee  Sleight. 
Young  Archer,  The.     By  Charles  E.  Brimblecom. 
D-10 


COSY  CORNER  SERIES 

It  is  the  intention  of  the  publishers  that  this  series  shall 
contain  only  the  very  highest  and  purest  literature, — 
stories  that  shall  not  only  appeal  to  the  children  them- 
selves, but  be  appreciated  by  all  those  who  feel  with 
them  in  their  joys  and  sorrows. 

The  numerous  illustrations  in  each  book  are  by  well-known 
artists,  and  each  volume  has  a  separate  attractive  cover 
design. 

Each  i  vol.,  i6mo,  cloth $0.50 

By  ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 

The  Little  Colonel.          (Trade  Mark) 

The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  in  Kentucky.  Its  heroine 
is  a  small  girl,  who  is  known  as  the  Little  Colonel,  on 
account  of  her  fancied  resemblance  to  an  old-school 
Southern  gentleman,  whose  fine  estate  and  old  family  are 
famous  in  the  region. 

The  Giant  Scissors. 

This  is  the  story  of  Joyce  and  of  her  adventures  in 
France.  Joyce  is  a  great  friend  of  the  Little  Colonel,  and 
in  later  volumes  shares  with  her  the  delightful  experiences 
of  the  "  House  Party  "  and  the  "  Holidays." 

Two  Little  Knights  of  Kentucky. 

WHO  WERE  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  NEIGHBORS. 

In  this  volume  the  Little  Colonel  returns  to  us  like  an  old 
friend,  but  with  added  grace  and  charm.  She  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  central  figure  of  the  story,  that  place  being  taken 
by  the  "  two  little  knights." 

Mildred's  Inheritance. 

A  delightful  little  story  of  a  lonely  English  girl  who 
comes  to  America  and  is  befriended  by  a  sympathetic 
American  family  who  are  attracted  by  her  beautiful  speak- 
ing voice.  By  means  of  this  one  gift  she  is  enabled  to 
help  a  school-girl  who  has  temporarily  lost  the  use  of  her 
eyes,  and  thus  finally  her  life  becomes  a  busy,  happy  one. 
D-ll 


L.   C.  PAGE   AND   COMPANY'S 


By  ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON  (Contimvd) 

Cicely  and  Other  Stories  for  Girls. 

The  readers  of  Mrs.  Johnston's  charming  juveniles  will 
be  glad  to  learn  of  the  issue  of  this  volume  for  young 
people. 

Aunt  'Liza's  Hero  and  Other  Stories. 

A  collection  of  six  bright  little  stories,  which  will  appeal 
to  all  boys  and  most  girls. 

Big  Brother. 

A  story  of  two  boys.  The  devotion  and  care  of  Steven, 
himself  a  small  boy,  for  his  baby  brother,  is  the  theme  of 
the  simple  tale. 

Ole  Mammy's  Torment. 

«« Ole  Mammy's  Torment "  has  been  fitly  called  "  a  classic 
of  Southern  life."  It  relates  the  haps  and  mishaps  of  a 
small  negro  lad,  and  tells  how  he  was  led  by  love  and  kind- 
ness to  a  knowledge  of  the  right. 

The  Story  of  Dago. 

In  this  story  Mrs.  Johnston  relates  the  story  of  Dago,  a 
pet  monkey,  owned  jointly  by  two  brothers.  Dago  tells 
his  own  story,  and  the  account  of  his  haps  and  mishaps  is 
both  interesting  and  amusing. 

The  Quilt  That  Jack  Built. 

A  pleasant  little  story  of  a  boy's  labor  of  love,  and  how 
it  changed  the  course  of  his  life  many  years  after  it  was 
accomplished. 

Flip's  Islands  of  Providence. 

A  story  of  a  boy's  life  battle,  his  early  defeat,  and  his 
final  triumph,  well  worth  the  reading. 


COSY  CORNER  SERIES 


By  EDITH  ROBINSON 

A  Little  Puritan's  First  Christmas. 

A  story  of  Colonial  times  in  Boston,  telling  how  Christ- 
mas was  invented  by  Betty  Sewall,  a  typical  child  of  the 
Puritans,  aided  by  her  brother  Sam. 

A  Little  Daughter  of  Liberty. 

The  author's  motive  for  this  story  is  well  indicated  by  a 
quotation  from  her  introduction,  as  follows : 

"  One  ride  is  memorable  in  the  early  history  of  the 
American  Revolution,  the  well-known  ride  of  Paul  Revere. 
Equally  deserving  of  commendation  is  another  ride,  —  the 
ride  of  Anthony  Severn,  —  which  was  no  less  historic  in  its 
action  or  memorable  in  its  consequences." 

A  Loyal  Little  Maid. 

A  delightful  and  interesting  story  of  Revolutionary  days, 
in  which  the  child  heroine,  Betsey  Schuyler,  renders  im- 
portant services  to  George  Washington. 

A  Little  Puritan  Rebel. 

This  is  an  historical  tale  of  a  real  girl,  during  the  time 
when  the  gallant  Sir  Harry  Vane  was  governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts. 

A  Little  Puritan  Pioneer. 

The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  in  the  Puritan  settlement  at 
Charlestown.  The  little  girl  heroine  adds  another  to  the 
list  of  favorites  so  well  known  to  the  young  people. 

A  Little  Puritan  Bound  Girl. 

A  story  of  Boston  in  Puritan  days,  which  is  of  great 
interest  to  youthful  readers. 

A  Little  Puritan  Cavalier. 

The  story  of  a  "  Little  Puritan  Cavalier"  who  tried  with 
all  his  boyish  enthusiasm  to  emulate  the  spirit  and  ideals  of 
the  dead  Crusaders. 

B  — 13 


L.  C.   PAGE   AND  COMPANY'S 


By  QUID  A  (Louise  de  la  Ramie) 

A   Dog  Of   Flanders  :  A  CHRISTMAS  STORY. 
Too  well  and  favorably  known  to  require  description. 

The  Nurnberg  Stove. 

This  beautiful  story  has  never  before  been  published  at 
a  popular  price. 

By  FRANCES  MARGARET  FOX 

The  Little  Giant's  Neighbour*. 

A  charming  nature  story  of  a  "  little  giant "  whose  neigh- 
bours were  the  creatures  of  the  field  and  garden. 

Farmer  Brown  and  the  Birds. 

A  little  story  which  teaches  children  that  the  birds  are 
man's  best  friends. 

Betty  of  Old  Mackinaw. 

A  charming  story  of  child-life,  appealing  especially  to  the 
little  readers  who  like  stories  of  "  real  people." 

Brother  Billy. 

The  story  of  Betty's  brother,  and  some  further  adven- 
tures of  Betty  herself. 

Mother  Nature's  Little  Ones. 

Curious  little  sketches  describing  the  early  lifetime,  or 
"  childhood,"  of  the  little  creatures  out-of-doors. 

How  Christmas  Came  to  the  Mul- 
vaneys. 

A  bright,  lifelike  little  story  of  a  family  of  poor  children, 
with  an  unlimited  capacity  for  fun  and  mischief.  The 
wonderful  never-to-be  forgotten  Christmas  that  came  to 
them  is  the  climax  of  a  series  of  exciting  incidents. 

D-14 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUN  1  9  1952 


Form  L9-25m-9,'47(A5618)444 


3  1158  00730  6185 


